


Raising Yuuri

by Dreamingwithwings



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anxious!Yuuri, Baby!Yuuri, Big Brother Otabek, Big Brother Yuri, Child Katsuki Yuuri, Family Feels, Family Shenanigans, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, I messed with a lot of ages forgive me, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Lots of both, Papa!Viktor, Single Parent Victor Nikiforov, Starts with Viktor and slowly becomes Yuuri's story, Vodka aunt Chris, Yuuri is the cutest baby to ever exist, all OC's are incredibly minor, big sis Mila, character exploration, depressed!Viktor, dysfunctional Russian skating family, finding life and love, large time span, makkachin is just happy to be here, one big crazy family, platonic, pov switching, too old for this shit grandpa Yakov, viktor is trying his best, you'll learn as we go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2017-07-01
Packaged: 2018-11-13 03:04:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11175666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreamingwithwings/pseuds/Dreamingwithwings
Summary: Viktor’s life felt stagnant and empty, like some important piece of it was missing. That is, until he ran into a 3-year-old Japanese boy. Literally. Abandoned in St. Petersburg with only a note and the pack on his back, Viktor finds himself taking little Yuuri into his life. Winning a gold medal? That’s easy. Raising a kid? Now that’s another story.Throughout all the chaos, Viktor learns a little about life, Yuuri learns a little about love, and together, they both learn a little about home.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I really wanted to explore Yuuri and Viktor's love in a different way from normal. After all, there are different types of love out there, and I don't think familial love is any less important than romantic love. How would their dynamic differ? How would it stay the same? Does age and situation really matter, or do they still have the ability to show each other the meaning of life and love? 
> 
> I guess there's only one way to find out. Enjoy you guys.

Viktor Nikifiorov was dead to the world, passed out and butt-ass naked as he drooled into his pillow. The one part of him that was actually covered was his head, the sheets used as a buffer between the light streaming through the windows and the ache of the hangover that was sure to hit him the moment he woke up. The rest of him was only covered by a thin sheen of last night’s sweat and fading glitter. Oh, and Makkachin.

Just like Viktor, she was fast asleep and tucked in-between his legs with her nose pressed right against his calf. Every now and then she would let out a small, doggy snore as she nuzzled into the warmth of his body, but otherwise she laid quite still.  

Both of them were completely oblivious to the angry flashing notifications of Viktor’s phone. Even when the device sprang to life once more with the piano riffs from last year’s free skate, Viktor did little more than twitch a finger in response. The call ended in a grand crescendo of violin and piano with Yuri Plisetksy’s photo glaring at the ceiling. His named joined the list of the other missed calls, including four from Yakov Feltsman, one from Mila Babicheva, and now two from Yuri.

A text message, 1 of now 26, filled up the top half of the screen with a bing.  

**Yuri Plisetsky                     9:48**

I SWEAR TO GOD VIKTOR, YOU BETTER BE DEAD

Of course, the death threat fell on deaf ears and the screen faded black like it had done with all the others. The notification light continued to blink in rhythm, blue, green, and red alerting nobody but the ceiling.

The apartment remained quiet for just a moment longer before it suddenly shook with the force of the front door thrown open. Makkachin lifted her head in confusion, letting out a small _boof_ as she stared at the closed door of the bedroom. She continued to watch it, stretching her legs over her master’s with a yawn, as the sound of stomping feet grew louder down the small hall towards Viktor’s bedroom.

The door flew open with a bang.

“What the actual _fuck_ Viktor!?” Yuri stood at the entrance, arm dramatically raised to the side and blonde hair frazzled. He looked like he was about to kill someone. That someone, of course, was the Russian sleeping beauty before him.

Viktor’s entire body jumped to life at the noise, his legs thrashing and sending poor Makkachin to the floor with a yelp as he himself cried out in fright. The following seconds were filled with regret and Viktor moaned as his entire body pulsed with the intense throb of his head.

He didn’t even have time to reflect on _why_ , however, because seconds later Yuri was beating him with his own pillow. Makkachin took one look at them from her spot on the floor and left the room with a wag of her tail.

“Do you fucking know what time it is? You were supposed to be at the rink _two hours ago,_ you piece of shit! I had to leave my own fucking practice because everyone was worried about you, and you’ve just been _sleeping_?”

“Yuri-“ Viktor was shushed with a mouthful of pillow as Yuri attempted to smother him with it.

“Do you think I _enjoy_ coming over and pulling your naked ass out of bed? I should sue you for sexually harassing a minor.”

“C-Can you be a little quieter please?” he pleaded, finally catching the pillow and using it to hide his face. A chainsaw down the back of his neck would have been less painful than this.

Yuri grabbed the pillow, yanked it out his grip, and bent real close.

“NO!” Viktor flinched, moaning in agony and turning over onto his stomach. Through closed eyelids he could see stars. Dear god, what did he do to deserve this? Well, he kinda knew but _still._ Yuri crossed his arms, looking rather satisfied now that Viktor was a whimpering ball. “It’s not my fault you have no self-control.” He walked over to the blinds and yanked them open, illuminating Viktor’s glittery ass with the light of the sun.

“You’re killing me _Yura._ ” Viktor whined pathetically, trying to block out the sun by burying his face in the crook of his elbow. Anything to keep out the vision of hell outside his window. “Have some mercy.”

Yuri scoffed at that, walking around the room and digging in Viktor’s drawers. A few minutes later he threw a bundle of clothes at his lumped form. Viktor grunted in response.  

“Get dressed, already. I’ve seen your dick enough to last me a lifetime.” Viktor laughed weakly, finally peeking outside of his arm and blinking blearily at the sunlit room. With some effort he managed to sit up and reach for his phone, which at this point was blinking with a whopping 30 messages.

“Well fuck,” Viktor hissed, biting his lips as the time slowly burned his eyes. No wonder Yuri had come to get him. He had never been this late before.

“Yeah. Fuck.” Yuri repeated. “It’d better have been worth it because I’m pretty sure Yakov is going to skin you and wear you like a hat.”

“Is he mad?” Viktor asked, already knowing the answer. He wasn’t even quite sure why he asked. This wasn’t the first time this had happened. He had been told, repeatedly, that he was the reason Yakov was going bald. Which, of course, was totally unfair because Yakov was old _anyways._

It was purely coincidental. Probably.

Sliding to the edge of the bed, Viktor began pulling on the boxers Yuri had thrown at him.

“Well,” Yuri crossed his arms, leaning against the wall. His lips upturned into a smirk. “He chucked his favorite mug at the wall after you didn’t pick up the third time.”

“Wow,” Viktor voiced in English, carding his hand through his hair. He could already see the headline **.**

**Skating legend Viktor Nikiforov, 23, killed in a crime of passion by coach with knife shoes.**

Pulling his pants on and then himself to his feet, Viktor stretched before yanking on his shirt and heading to the bathroom. His hair was to be expected, the silver fluff tangled and frizzed from sleep and the previous night. A night, Viktor was realizing, that _had_ to have been a wild one if the fuzziness of his memory and the pounding of his head was anything to go by. No wonder he hadn’t remembered to set his alarm.

After all, Viktor could barely even remember coming home last night. Just blotchy images of pulsing lights, grinding bodies, and the taste of alcohol on his tongue. He wasn’t even quite sure where the glitter came from, only that there had been a lot of dancing and a _lot_ of drinking.

Viktor touched at the sparkles dulling on his cheeks before sighing.

Reaching for his brush, he touched up his hair as best as he could and splashed his face with water from the sink, drying off the droplets with a towel he had nearby. He made sure to remove all the visible glitter. Next he rummaged through drawers for the pills he needed for his killer headache, shaking the bottle once he found it and twisting off the lid. He dumped a couple into his hand and swallowed them without a thought.

“ _Yura,_ let’s stop for some coffee,” Viktor said lightly as he left the bathroom. There was no way he was going to make it through practice if he didn’t have any pumping through his system. Yuri looked up from his phone with disgust, following Viktor down the hall to the living room.

“What, no!” Yuri aggressively jammed his fists in his pockets. “Are you stupid?” Viktor ignored Yuri’s temper, instead smiling and making kissing faces towards Makkachin as she leapt off the couch to go greet them. Bending down, he scratched her ears and planted a big kiss on her nose. Makkachin wagged her tail at the affection, lapping at Viktor’s fingers with her tongue.

“Aww, don’t be like that. It’s my treat.” Viktor winked up at him.

“I will not be _bribed!_ ” Yuri reached over and grabbed Viktor by the collar, yanking him away from Makkachin. Both master and dog whined at the loss of each other. “Get your skating shit and let’s go already.” Viktor pouted, his cheeks balloons, but stood up anyways.

“So angry.” Viktor chided, pulling on his jacket and slipping on his shoes with graceful practice. Before he moved to grab his skates and workout clothes, already packed in his duffle since yesterday, he made sure to fill Makkachin’s dish with food. A paid neighbor would be by to take her for a walk later. He grabbed his duffle and pulled it onto his shoulder. “You better be careful, you’re going to end up looking like Yakov.”

Red-faced, Yuri gave him a hard kick to the back as they walked out the door.

 

***

Viktor was nearly three hours late when he finally stepped into the ice arena with two cups of coffee in hand and a smile. Even though the ache in the back of his head refused to leave, the coffee was at least nursing it some. While he had no plans to do jumps today, god forbid his brain split right in half if he did, he could at least manage to work on his choreography.

Despite the initial refusal to stop, Yuri was no match for Viktor when his mind was set on something. Nobody was. All it took was a lot of pestering and a promise of _pirozhki_ to get him to agree. Apparently, Yuri _could_ be bribed. The half-eaten treat crumbles on his mouth and the small brown bag clutched protectively in his grip could attest to that.  

Viktor made sure to tuck this information away for future reference the next time he needed Yuri’s cooperation.

“Yakov!” Viktor warmly announced as soon as he spotted his coach beside the rink. His voice bounced off the walls as it always did, a familiar echo to all that frequented. “Sorry I’m late! But I brought you some coffee.” Unable to actually wave, Viktor awkwardly gestured with his half-drunken cup in a way to greet him. It sloshed in the Styrofoam and the warmth tingled against his fingers. 

Several pairs of eyes immediately jumped in their direction.

Georgi, in the middle of his routine, skidded to a stop on the ice and pulled out one of his headphones. Mila, paused in her stretch, began to smirk with her leg pointed high above her head. Other skaters and their couches, though few, also stopped what they were doing to curiously look over.

Yakov, however, turned towards them slowly. It made shivers crawl down Viktor’s spine, because while Yakov’s eyes were burning as they bore into him, exploring his face, his state of dress, his hands, it felt like his gut was being carved out with ice. Viktor’s smile twitched, his confidence plummeting the closer they got. It was only through previous practice that he was able to maintain it.

“I wasn’t sure which coffee you’d like,” he started, “so I went ahead with Coconutmilk Mocha Macchiato **.** It’s super good! You only can taste the coconut a little bit, and the carmel-“ 

**“** _Vitya.”_ Yakov reached out and grabbed Viktor’s cheeks with his thumb and pointer finger in a tight, vice-like grip. Pressing hard, Viktor’s lips popped open with a loud sound. Yuri grinned like his favorite TV show had just come on.

“Y-Yakofh?” his hands filled with coffee, Viktor just sort of stared at him and wiggled his lips awkwardly.

“Do you care about me?” Viktor tilted his head at the question. It wasn’t what he was expecting, given the glare that he had received the moment he had entered, but hey. Might as well roll with it.

“Y-Yesh?”  

“Then why are you trying to kill me?!” Face now flushed with anger, he tightened his grip until Viktor’s cheeks were throbbing uncomfortably. Note to self, Yakov was _strong._ “Three hours late, _Vitya._ Three hours!”

Viktor attempted to smile in his grip, but it came across as more ridiculous than an actual, genuine smile.  

“I’m not going to even ask _why-“_

“He was hungover, covered in glitter, and butt-ass naked.” Yuri provided, his expression clearly showing amusement at Viktor getting scolded like a misbehaving puppy. Viktor scowled in his direction because rude much?  

“I-” Yakov froze, stopping to stare at Yuri for a second. “ _Yura,_ what are you eating?” Yuri swallowed, looking down at his precious bag and realizing his mistake. Viktor made a noise that was meant to be a laugh.

“Nothing.” He said quickly, holding the bag close and turning to make his escape.

“You have a clear diet regimen!” Yakov yelled after him, the angry vein in his forehead distinct on his massive forehead, but Yuri pretended not to hear him. Both Yakov and Viktor watched as he took shelter in the locker room and out of sight.

“I am too old for this shit.” Yakov sighed heavily, pinching Viktor’s cheeks between his fingers before finally letting go. “Especially from you.”

“Aww, don’t be so angry. I showed up, didn’t I?” Viktor offered, because it was true. He _was_ here _._ Kind of gross and hungover, but who needed to focus on those details?  

“Because I sent _Yura_ to get you!” Yakov’s palm slid down his face in frustration. “You need to start taking life more seriously, _Vitya!_ This behavior of yours is unacceptable!”

“I’m just having some fun. Living life, you know.” Viktor smiled awkwardly.

“There’s having fun and then there’s overdoing it.” Yakov shook his head. When he looked back up at Viktor, there was concern hidden in his furrowed brow. “I worry about you. You can’t be a Russian playboy forever! Your actions have consequences, and I’m just waiting for the day your impulsive behavior gets the best of you.”

“Yakov.” Viktor frowned, biting on his lip. “I would never let my life effect my skating.”

“I’m not talking about your skating, _Vitya._ I’m talking about you! Whatever the public says, you are not a God on skates. You are a stupid human just like of the rest of us who doesn’t know his limits. You need to grow up and realize there’s more to life than this.” He waved to all of Viktor.

Yakov words were sharp and they sunk deep in Viktor’s stomach, like giant weights barbed with spikes. They echoed deep and tugged at strings that he wished would just be left alone. Yet, every now and then, someone would tug.  

Viktor shoved another smile onto his face.

“I’m sorry.” Viktor said, lowering his head. He meant it, too. It was never his intention to worry Yakov, not when he was basically family.

Yakov was clearly thrown by the apology, instead choosing to look out towards the rink. Georgi had returned to skating his routine again, awkwardly sliding through his step sequence. Viktor did the same, noting that if his rinkmate would adjust his foot position a little more it would come out smoother.

 He looked back at Yakov when the older man cleared his throat.

“No more being late to practice, got it? Your free skate still needs some work before Skate Canada and I won’t tolerate you missing gold because of your own stupidity.”

“Yes. I promise.” Viktor nodded and his shoulders relaxed a bit. Eyeing Viktor for a moment, Yakov grunted in approval. Whatever he saw, it seemed like he was satisfied.

 “Now, we’ve wasted enough time! Go put on your skates!” He reached forward, grabbing the two coffees resting in Viktor’s hands and pulling them to his chest.

“Um, actually the other one is mine.” Viktor tentatively reached for the cup, a whimper already on his lips at the loss.

“I said SKATES!” Viktor didn’t have enough courage to argue, Yakov’s voice like a giant nail to his throbbing head. He grabbed his duffle and quickly shuffled off to the locker room to change. It was best not to test his luck, especially after such a morning.  

“Oh, you’re still alive?” Yuri said, smirking with his hands on his hips as Viktor pushed through the door. His bag of _pirozhki_ was gone, probably stuffed carefully into his locker. “I thought for sure we’d be burying your fat forehead into the dirt.”

“My forehead is not _fat.”_ Viktor pressed a hand to his chest, dropping his bag to the bench. “It is proportional to the rest of my face.”

“Whatever old man.” Yuri walked passed him, putting his hand on the handle of the door. He paused right before twisting it. “Just so you know, this is the last time I’m coming to wake you up. Next time, it’s someone else problem. I have a gold medal to earn.” With a pointed glare, he left with a huff.

Viktor watched him go, sitting down and running his hands through his hair. It felt so short under his fingers, and it made him feel rather reminiscent of his long hair. He used to run his hands through and rub the silver strands between his fingers whenever he felt particularly anxious. There was something soothing about it, and soon Viktor took up braiding it as another means of comfort. The night before his first debut as a senior, his entire head was covered in them. Small braids, big braids, his hair looked like a nest of twisted pretzels. Later on, he and Yakov spent a good 20 minutes trying to brush out the mess that had become his hair.

At 19, he hacked it all off. It was an impulsive decision, one decided after a lonely night and need for change. It had felt like the world was slowly falling from his grasp. He had to keep surprising them because if they weren’t still looking, then who was?

Unzipping his bag, Viktor pulled out his workout clothes and quickly got dressed. The last thing he needed was for Yakov to come barging in and yelling at him to get his ass in gear. Tucking his things into his locker and grabbing his skates, he joined the rest out by the rink.

Annoyingly, however, Yakov’s words were like an itch to the skin, and Viktor couldn’t seem to shake them even as he joined the others on the ice. To warm up his muscles he lazily skated around the rim before working his body into a layback Ina Bauer. He couldn’t find it in himself to perfect it like usual.

It felt like the chain wrapped around his neck was being tugged at a lot harder than normal today. Viktor couldn’t shake the cold, heavy leash that had managed to wrap around his throat when he wasn’t looking. How long has it been since he started to feel lit?  He wasn’t sure. Most days he was able to forget about it, but some days, like today, he was made aware of how suffocating it was.

_You need to grow up and realize there’s more to life than this._

The thing was, Viktor knew. He didn’t need Yakov to tell him that. He felt it deeply, like there was a hallow piece in his soul that kept flickering to empty. A candle that refused to stay lit. Skating had once been able to do it, keeping it alive and burning bright. But ever since he earned the title of living legend, the pieces no longer seemed to fit. While Viktor loved skating more than anything, he felt betrayed by the very thing he had dedicated his life to. It just wasn’t enough for him anymore. What was he supposed to do now?

He was sick of feeling numb, sick of the emptiness and the darkness that liked to lurk behind closed doors. Viktor was searching every day for a map that could lead him to what he was so desperate for, the key that would unlock the chain around his neck and let him finally breathe again.

He just wished he knew what that was. Until then, he was willing to mash anything into the puzzle to try and make it fit. The great thing about parties and drinking himself into a stupor was that it made it a lot easier to ignore all the jagged edges.

 

For the entirety of practice, Viktor was left to himself. It was Yakov’s sort of punishment, declaring that coaches are for students that arrive on time. He couldn’t say he really minded. Rather, with him still nursing a hangover and being hounded with his thoughts, it was kind of nice to control his practice. Not that Viktor was ever really stopped from doing his own thing anyways.

After warmup he started touching up the routine of his free skate, debating with himself over the choreography and if it told the story that he wanted to tell. His theme this year was longing **,** and he wanted to make sure the message was conveyed.

In the end, he never really came to a final decision on what to do. He left the ice feeling rather frustrated, tapping his fingers impatiently against his arms as he sat down to take off his skates. Yakov, Yuri, Mila, and Georgi had left earlier that afternoon, but Viktor was adamant about staying despite his throbbing temple.

It was nearing five o’clock when he finally left the rink, showered and back in the clothes Yuri had picked out for him today. The air was chilly, but Viktor didn’t really mind. In fact, it felt nice against his face. He took a detour through a nearby park, waving at a couple of girls when he caught them staring. They giggled into their jackets and ran off, leaving Viktor to walk the rest of the way in undisturbed silence.

Makkachin was all over him the moment he stepped through the door, jumping on his knees and attempting to lick his face.

“Aww, did you miss me girl? Did ya!?” Viktor cooed at her, rubbing his face right up against hers. She barked in response, spinning around in circles as he kicked off his shoes, dropped his bag, and hung up his coat. Viktor pat her on the head with affectionate eyes, walking into the kitchen and reaching into the cabinet for her dog food.

“I bet you’re hungry, aren’t you baby?” he bent down with the bag and she joined him, the two of them watching as he filled the bowl. “That’s right, papa knows.” The silver dish full, he stood up and Makkachin dashed forward to munch on her dinner. At the same time, Viktor’s stomach grumbled.

“Looks like I’m hungry too.” He eyed the fridge before walking over and yanking open the door. There was only a couple of things sitting on the shelves. A half-carton of eggs, a bottle of wine, a bag of half-eaten carrots, and some takeout from… well, who knows when. He didn’t do a lot of home cooking, to tell the truth. Grabbing the takeout, Viktor opened the lid, only to scrunch his face in disgust as a putrid smell filled his nostrils. Yuck. He tossed it into the trash and slammed the door shut. The cupboards were much the same way.

So much for eating at home, he supposed.  

“I have nothing to _eat,_ Makkachin,” Viktor whined dramatically, the poodle giving a small yip in response as her master draped himself over the counter. Peering through his silver hair, Viktor weighed his options before standing up again. There was a small convenience store down the block a ways that would have to do. Maybe tomorrow he could rope Yuri in going shopping with him.

Grabbing his phone and wallet, Viktor was waving goodbye to Makkachin as he head out the door. Once out of the apartment building, he looked up and noticed the darkening clouds in the sky. Viktor crossed his arms and started a quick pace towards the store. He better hurry and get what he needed before the storm hit.

Luckily, it wasn’t a far distance. There were two turns, but besides that it was just a straight shot down the sidewalk. With his quick pace he made it in about 8 minutes. The store was small, named precisely for what it was meant for. Convenience. There was only three long isles inside as Viktor walked through the sliding doors, chancing a small glance at the teenager manning the register before walking down the first of the three isles.

Viktor was nothing close to a master chef, and even if he was this wasn’t the place to do proper shopping. He grabbed only what he would need for tonight. Some noodles, a pound of beef, some sauce mix, and a few other miscellaneous items. It wasn’t perhaps the most traditional way to make beef stroganoff, but his options were limited and he was starving. After a moment of contemplation, he dropped a package of cookies into the basket and walked up to the counter.

“Did you find everything okay?” The girl asked, her voice low and face expressionless as if she has had to ask that question too many times in her life. Viktor attempted to perk her up with a smile, but she didn’t even look up at him.

“Yes, thank you.”

She plopped his items one by one into a plastic bag and read him the total. Once he paid, Viktor awkwardly took the bag from her and let it dangle from his fingers as he headed out the door.

Since his time inside the skies had gotten darker, the clouds an angry, puffy black that threatened to drench all of St. Petersburg. He could practically feel the weight of the oncoming storm in the wind as it smacked roughly against his skin and turned his cheeks pink. Viktor looked pleadingly up at the sky, begging for it to hold off just so he could get home and let Makkachin out, before briskly walking down the street.

As he made the first turn, his thoughts turned back to the bag hanging from his grip and he smiled at the thought of a home-cooked meal. Now that he had a plan in action, he was rather looking forward to it. Growing up, there weren’t a lot of hot dishes placed in front of him at the table. It was simple things, like toast or a TV dinner. When he got older, it was money to go get something for himself. His parents were always too busy to make an effort.

Yakov and Lilia were the only ones that bothered giving him some sort of feeling of home, inviting him for dinner once and a while after practice. It was nice, for a while at least. But then they got divorced and Viktor moved into his apartment as soon as he turned 18. They didn’t eat dinner together after that. It was a shame, and it made him feel bittersweet. He often felt more a part of their family than he ever did with his own.

Gripping his bag as the wind threatened to pull it from him, Viktor turned the corner.

At the same time, something hard rammed into his leg.

“ _Fuck!”_ Viktor swore, nearly falling over and wincing as his leg stung like someone had just chucked a brick at his knee. What the hell? Viktor looked around, ready to bitch at them to watch where they were going, only to blink in surprise.

A tiny, chubby little Japanese boy stared up at him from the ground, brown eyes wide as he tightly clutched a white envelope to his chest. He looked at Viktor with fear, his nose slowly scrunching up and eyes growing wet. Up above, the sky grumbled with thunder.

Viktor stood frozen as the child started to cry.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, thanks everyone for your interest so far! I didn't expect to have such a reaction just on the first chapter! The feedback makes me excited to get this story out there. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this next chapter!
> 
> Before you start, however, I just want to quickly point out that I only speak one language. English. That means unfortunately, I have to use a translator for Japanese, Russian, and any other language that pops up. The different languages are important to the story, especially for Yuuri, so its difficult for me to work around it. With that in mind, please let me know if you notice any errors! I want to make sure I'm portraying the languages accurately. On a similar note, if you have any suggestions, I'm open for that too!
> 
> I'm only as good as the computer is and, quite frankly, we all know how that goes. 
> 
> You'll be able to find the English translations at the end.

Viktor had always been awkward around people who were crying. There was just something about the vulnerable display that made him feel uncomfortable and unsure of what to do. This child was no exception. Head snapping side to side, he tried to find _someone_ who could make him stop. A flustered parent, maybe, who would swoop down and pick the kid up or perhaps an older sibling that would apologize profusely for letting him run off, but there was nobody. Just the block, him, and a small, crying Japanese boy.

What a day this was turning out to be.

“Um, please don’t cry, okay?” Viktor panicked, dropping to his knees and setting his bag off to the side. He then offered a smile as if that would somehow calm him. It didn’t. The boy completely ignored him, fat tears sliding down his cheeks as he wailed.

“Shhh, you’re fine!” He desperately looked around again to see if someone was coming to the rescue, but the streets remained empty. That was odd, to say the least. He didn’t have much time to dwell on it, however, because the crying was getting louder, the sky was once again shaking with thunder, and his headache was back to bulldozing his brain.

“No more crying look, look I have-“ Viktor reached for his bag and practically ripped it open to get at the box of cookies “-cookies! Everyone loves cookies, right?” He tore the packaging and pulled one out, offering it to the boy. Hiccupping, the crying lessened some as the child tried to figure out what was in Viktor’s hand.

“鉱山?” he sniffed, hiding behind his hands.

“For you.” Viktor smiled. “It’s a peace offering.” It felt like an incredible victory when his hand started to reach out and take the cookie from Viktor. They were wet and clammy, his fingers half the size of his own. Viktor couldn’t help but be slightly amazed that children could be so… _tiny_. And he thought Yuri was small.

The child didn’t take a bite at first, sucking on the edge as he puffed out his cheeks. It was as if he was trying to figure out if he should eat it which, if Viktor had to admit, was adorable. He rested his chin on his palm, watching the child pull the cookie out in front of him with a thoughtful look. He turned the cookie around, looked at Viktor, and then at last took a small bite.

“Gwah!” The child giggled, clearly liking the taste. He held the cookie out again and smiled at it before bringing it back to nibble on. Ignoring the dried tear trails on his face, it was hard to tell he had been crying just a minute ago. Children really were magical creatures.

“Yummy, right?” Viktor reached forward and ruffled the child’s black hair. Now that he wasn’t crying, Viktor was able to actually look at him without the feeling like his head might explode. He had to be around three by the looks of it, his face round with cute dimples and brown eyes lined with dark lashes. Thanks to the sweater he wore, a large “Y” spread across the front, and his thick pants, he looked like a small, adorable pudge of a kid. Rather cute, actually. Viktor was sure that if he stood up, the child would only reach mid-thigh. On his back was a small backpack, which probably had cushioned his fall in their clash.

“You’re awfully young to be running around by yourself,” Viktor frowned. “Who’s supposed to be looking after you, little one?” His question was followed few drops of rain on the sidewalk.

The child’s shirt speckled with little crumbs as his cookie finally met its end, the boy looked up at Viktor nervously. It seemed that the small snack only served as a distraction from the fact that he was a stranger. The kid looked like he was about to run and never look back. Viktor offered him another cookie.

“See, I’m not scary.” Viktor smiled when he took it. “I just want to get you home before it rains. Can you tell me if your mommy or daddy is around?” He looked at the child expectantly, but he showed no signs of understanding. No head bob, no shake, nothing. It was as if he was speaking a foreign language.

Oh.

Viktor outwardly groaned.

“You don’t speak Russian, do you.” His fingers half in his mouth while he finished up his cookie, the child blinked at Viktor as if to say _duh._ This was, well this was just great.

“How about English?” Viktor quickly shifted to the other language, his accent still prominent despite years of fluency. It was pretty much required when you participated in world competitions. “Do you understand me?” 

“私はより多くを持つことができます?” He pointed at the box of cookies.

 “I will take that as a no.” His voice easily slipped back into Russian, knowing that English had been a longshot anyways. While he could also try French, Viktor had a hunch that the results would still be the same.  He handed the child another cookie. “Last one, okay? I don’t need you turning into a little piggy on my watch.”

The child took it with glee, giggling as he shoved it into his mouth without so much of a thought. He was halfway through it when he suddenly paused, looking at Viktor. He pulled it out of his mouth and smiled.

“Arigato!”

Viktor laughed at his enthusiasm. That, at least, he could understand. His knowledge of the language was very limited, the extensive of it coming from a few brief greetings with some of Japan’s skaters. He would never be able start up a conversation, but he could at least bite a little.

“Konnichiwa~”

“Konnichiwa!” the little boy cheered, perhaps happy himself that he could understand something that came out of Viktor mouth. His eyes then went wide as a thought crossed his mind. “あなたはママがどこにいるか知っていますか?”

“I’m sorry?” It was Viktor’s turn to blink in confusion, disappointment painting the child’s features as he came to realize he wasn’t understood. His cheeks pouted out and he seemed to forget about the cookie in his hands. Viktor would have felt bad expect it was the cutest thing he’d ever seen. “Aww, don’t make that face little guy. I’m sure we will figure something-“Viktor’s tongue was yanked right out of his throat as the earth trembled underneath them with thunder, followed by a great flash of lightning. The child made a whimpering sound as the clouds began to drench the city. Great.

“いいえ!” Hugging the envelope, the child kneeled forward and attempted to hide himself from the rain. He was shivering in seconds, the sweater soaking up the water and offering no protection against the wind. Viktor looked around, hair already dripping, as his mind buzzed with adrenaline. There was no time to just sit here and wait, not when the rain was ice cold and seeping into their skin. So Viktor did what he always did. He threw caution to the wind and made a split decision. Grabbing his bag of food, he yanked the squirming child into his arms and ran.

Perhaps it was a bit impulsive.

But, well, he was Viktor freaking Nikiforov. He _thrived_ on impulsivity. The consequences of taking a child right of the street were there, floating in the back of his mind alongside Yakov’s voice, but he easily shoved them aside. He only really cared about getting them out of the rain and into someplace warm. He could deal with everything else later.

Instinctively, the child curled against his chest in attempt to get out of the rain. Of course, it didn’t do much to help, but it did pull at Viktor’s heartstrings. He was at a loss for why this child was all by himself, let alone at night in a storm. How could someone be irresponsible? Even he, who woke up covered in _glitter_ just this morning, could do better than that _._ He had a few choice words for such a family and Viktor promised himself that when he did find them, they wouldn’t be let off the hook that easily.

When he at last reached his apartment building, he spent another full minute fumbling with the keys to open the door. By this time the two of them were drenched and pooling liquid on the floor. “You okay?” he asked, watching as the kid slowly peered around the lobby. There was no response, of course, but he did turn around to look at Viktor once he heard his voice. “I live right up these elevators.” Viktor walked over to them and pressed the up button. “We will figure out what to do once we get there, hmm?”

“ママはどこですか? ” Viktor looked at him curiously but didn’t say anything. They waited for a moment for the elevator, the weight of the kid starting to strain his arm. How did parents even manage to do this? He was a trained athlete and even he was feeling it. Eventually, the elevator dinged and arrived in all its glory, opening the doors for Viktor to step inside. He pressed the button that would bring them to the fifth floor.

They were nearly there when the child started fussing, and by the fifth floor Viktor all but gave up.

“Okay, okay.” Viktor carefully set him down, his arms thankful to say the least, and took the hand that wasn’t holding onto the envelope. “I’m just this way.” It was a bit more difficult to lead him down the hall, the unfamiliarity of everything clearly getting to him. Viktor could easily sympathize. There was no way this was _not_ scary.  He was actually pretty well-behaved, all things considered. Stopping at 513, Viktor pulled out his keys again and turned the knob. Immediately they were greeted by the bark of Makkachin, who came bolting down the hall to say hello. Viktor swore, completely forgetting about his dog.

“Makkachin, no!” Viktor quickly yanked the child off the floor before the dog could tackle him, Makkachin’s tail wagging fiercely at the sight of a new friend. She began to whimper and attempted to lick up at the child’s face. With a startled cry, the boy pushed back into Viktor’s grip in an attempt to get away from her. Feeling a bit bad, Viktor shoved her aside with his foot. His poor dog was getting kicked a lot today.

“Leave him alone. No, go sit. _Sit!_ ” Viktor never raised his voice at her, and so when he did, Makkachin knew he meant business. With a pathetic whine, she did as she was told, tail hanging low and ears drooping as she went to sit on the floor. Her eyes remained locked on the child hanging from Viktor grip. Every now and then, there would be a loud thump of her tail hitting the couch.

“Don’t worry, she is a very nice poodle,” Viktor said, attempting to soothe him as he set him back on the floor.  “A bit excitable, though. We don’t need to play a game of toddler bowling.” The last thing he needed was to have to deal with his crying again. He wasn’t sure he could bribe him with cookies anymore, not with how soaked they probably were.The child ignored him, fumbling with his envelope and mumbling to himself in Japanese. Though saved from the rain, the paper was beginning to crease from his tight grip.

“Come on, let’s get you out of these wet clothes and into something warm,” Viktor said, bending down and gently pulling off his small backpack. It was definitely worse for wear, several spots patched with irregular fabric. To his surprise, it was rather heavy. The child jumped at Viktor’s touch but allowed the pack to be removed.

“I suppose you wouldn’t have any clothes in here?” He pulled at the zippers and took a peek inside. To his disappointment, though not surprise, there wasn’t. Just a coloring book, a pack of crayons, a story book, and a small, stuffed pig. Why was this kid even lugging this stuff around? The contents left him frowning. There were too many peculiarities about the situation that didn’t sit right with him. He was just about to zip it up when the child shoved Viktor’s hands away and started digging into the bag.

“Bu-chan!” the pack of crayons went flying across the floor as he tossed them out of the way and extracted the stuffed pig with a triumphant grunt. Cuddling it to his face, he glared at Viktor as if daring for him to try and take it.

"これは私の豚です！ あなたはそれに触れることはできません！ ママは私のためにそれを買ってくれました！”

“Is that your piggy? It’s very cute,” Viktor smiled, watching as he rocked himself and the pig back and forth. It had definitely seen some better days, the pink fur faded and darkened with dirt. Along the side, Viktor took notice of a long gash stitched back together with black thread and bite marks on the curly part of the tail. Unquestionably, this toy was loved. He set the backpack aside and stood up.

“Why don’t you bring him with us?” Viktor kicked off his shoes, hung up his coat, and after a second of thought, peeled off his socks and tossed them somewhere. He then bent down and scooped the child into his arms. The lack of soggy clothes made him feel a lot better, and he was sure the kid would feel the same way. He did protested at first, pushing his palms against Viktor’s chest, but ultimately quieted down as Viktor tossed his bag of food in the fridge and led them down the darkened hall. So much for a fancy dinner, he supposed.

“Just sit here with your piggy and I’ll find you something,” Viktor said gently, plopping him carefully on the bed. His arms full with his pig and the envelope, the child just blinked at him uncertainly. Poor thing was probably so confused. “Just… stay here.” Viktor pointed to the bed as if that would help him out somehow. He wasn’t even sure why he kept trying to talk to him when clearly they both weren’t on the page. It was hard enough to talk to a toddler, let alone one that didn’t speak the same language. But, that was a problem for later. Right now, he had to figure out what he could even wear. It’s not like Viktor had clothes that would fit a child lying around. Rummaging through his dresser and closet, he ended up settling on a simple T-shirt. Anything was fine, just as long as he wasn’t stuck sitting in those wet clothes.

Setting the shirt down on the bed beside him, Viktor knelt in front of the child and started untying his shoes and slipping off his socks. Despite a little kicking, the child was mostly compliant and watched Viktor quietly as he hugged his pig. As Viktor feared, they had soaked up the water like sponges and turned his little toes to ice. It was a wonder he was so calm when he had to be miserable.

“You’re a strong little boy,” Viktor praised, patting him on the head. “I know ice skaters who would whine more than this.” Namely the dramatic ones, which he found rather ironic since they made a living off of _ice._ Cold feet was kind of part of the deal. Viktor tucked the wet socks into the little shoes and then set them aside.Changing him into the T-shirt was the hard part. In lieu of not absolutely _terrifying_ him and just stripping him out of his clothes, Viktor made sure to gesture each and every thing that he was doing. The last thing he needed was getting sent to court for undressing little boys. The press would definitely have a field day with that one.

Surprisingly, however, that was not the difficult part. It was getting him to let go of his toy and the envelope. As soon as Viktor reached for the pig, he earned a big kick in the knee and an angry shout. For the record, it was very hard to sooth an upset child when he had no idea what the hell he was saying. For all the kid knew, Viktor was saying he was going to take his stuff away forever.

Eventually, he did manage to pry it away enough to yoink the sweater off and throw it on the floor somewhere. By that time, Viktor didn’t even give a damn about anything else but shoving his head through the hole of the T-shirt. The Envelope, to his annoyance, was glued to the kids grip. He had some attachment to it that Viktor couldn’t begin to understand. Instead of fighting him over it, he just helped him exchange it between hands. Compared to the shirt, slipping off his pants was childs-play. After scavenging some socks from his drawers and practically tying them onto his legs to stay, Viktor stood back to look at his handiwork.

He, quite frankly, looked ridiculous. The shirt was too big, for one, and sat slouched on his shoulders, revealing most of his collarbone. It continued to hang loosely past his knees and nearly met up with Viktor’s socks. Well, it would do. It was better than nothing, right? Besides, he looked kind of cute. Like a tiny pillow or a poorly made ghost.

Of course, the child didn’t seem to think so. Blabbing in Japanese, he shook his pig at Viktor with a scowl before turning around and starting to climb further up the bed. Viktor took this time to strip off his own wet clothes and settling into some sweats and a shirt. He was just dumping all the wet clothes in a pile when the child decided he had enough of the bed and attempted to crawl off. After a bit of dangling, he managed to land on his feet and walked over to the window. On his tip toes, he held the pig so that the two of them could peer out the glass together.

“あなたは彼女を見ますか？”

Victor walked over behind him and watched as the wind whipped the rain harshly against the glass. It was a good thing they got in when they did. The thought of this little boy wandering the streets in this weather was not a pleasant image. Pulling out his phone to check the time, Viktor sighed. How did it get so late? As much he wanted to get this kid to where he needed to be, it wasn’t looking good.

“Listen.” He got on his knees and pulled the boy over, nearly getting lost in the expansive brown. “I know this must be pretty scary for you. But, you’re safe here, okay?” the child chose to respond something in Japanese and Viktor couldn’t help but feel a bit aggravated. “And you have no idea what I’m saying, right.” He rubbed at his eyes, the day feeling way too long.

And then his phone dinged, and Viktor no longer felt as frustrated. On the contrary, he felt like a genius.

Completely ignoring the .img Chris happened to text at him, he pulled open the internet browser and typed ‘Russian to Japanese translator’ into google. He grinned when the text boxed opened and immediately started typing. His curiosity peaked, the little boy leaned forward to peer at what Viktor was doing.

“Thank youuuu Chris,” Viktor praised, promising to treat the man to a drink when they met each other at the Grand Prix. Sure, they hadn’t even started the prelims but Viktor had won enough to be cocky and Chris was his closest competition. Yuri begged to differ, but Viktor was positive his inexperience would lead to a rude awakening one of these days. Done typing, Viktor hit play and an automated Japanese voice started to speak.

“ _Hello,”_ she greeted, and immediately the child was staring like magic had just happened. “ _I can’t speak Japanese, so let’s communicate like this! My name is Viktor, what is your name?”_ As the voice faded, the boy set down his pig in order to grab at the device.

“No no,” Viktor laughed, holding it up before his little paws could grab it. “You didn’t even try to answer the question!” Setting his phone to the side for a minute, Viktor pointed to himself. “Viktor.” He gestured to the child.

“Vit-ter,” he mumbled, frowning at how the unfamiliar name felt. “Vik-ter.”

“Hai!” Viktor praised, clapping his hands. He quickly typed something into the translator. “ _Yes, that is my name. What is your name?”_ giggling, the little boy pulled at his hair.

“Yuuri!”

“Yuri?” well what were the chances of _that_?

“Yuuuuuriiiii!” he pouted, hands on his hips. He continued to babble Japanese nonsense at Viktor, as if offended at Viktor pronunciation.

“Yuuri.” Viktor smiled as he said it, and Yuuri joined him with the cutest smile he had ever seen. It was all dimples and teeth, made even more adorable as he picked up his toy and shyly hid behind it.

“Yuuri, Vit-Vik,” Yuuri frowned, Viktor’s name proving to be a bit difficult.

“Viktor.” He reached out and fondly rubbed Yuuri’s head, glad that he at least had a name to call him by. If he had to continue to refer to him as “that child” he found on the street, he probably would have been driven crazy. “Don’t worry, you’ll get it.” He started texting into his phone again.

“ _It’s nice to meet you Yuuri. You have had quite the day._ _Do you know where your parents are? ”_ Yuuri cocked his head to side before responding to Japanese, right away blinding Viktor with the translator’s faults. While he was able to _ask_ Yuuri a question, he had no way of understanding the answer. Even if he _could,_ this was a three-year-old’s take on the language.

Sighing, Viktor finally let Yuuri take the phone out of his hands to play with. Well, so much for that. It looked like Yuuri was stuck here for the night. It was incredibly unlikely that he knew a number to call, let alone a street address. Perhaps a bit selfish on his part, but Viktor didn’t feel like gallivanting out in the storm to try and find his parents. Not when it was already this late. Besides, it might do them some good to worry about their son for a while. It would teach them not to make a mistake like this in the future. The more he thought about it, the more Viktor understood how lucky it was that he stumbled into him. Wandering in the storm aside, what if someone less… safe found him? The thought drove shivers up his spine the longer he spent with Yuuri, and it drove the guilt right out of him. He could go to the police tomorrow, but for now? Let them squirm a little.

Viktor was thrown out of his thoughts as Yuuri shoved the phone in his face, clearly unable to get the device to work. He seemed hell-bent on figuring out where the voice came from, glaring at Viktor like this was all his fault it wasn’t working. “It only works if you type into it, see?” Taking the phone and pulling Yuuri closer to show him, he typed in a sentence.

 _“Let’s have a sleepover!”_ Yuuri giggled at the sound of her voice again, attempting to hold the phone alongside Viktor.

“It must be nice to understand what she’s saying, huh.” Viktor typed in another question.

“ _Are you hungry, Yuuri?”_

“Hai,” Yuuri nodded, finally looking up at Viktor.

“ _let’s eat then! Follow me, okay?”_ Pocketing the phone, Viktor stood up and grinned as Yuuri tucked his pig under his arm and made to follow him. As he lead the way, Yuuri toddled after him like a little, unsure duckling. He followed Viktor right into the kitchen, staring up as he contemplated what he could even make for them.The beef stroganoff was out of question at this point. It was too big for so late at night, and it would take at least 40 minutes to cook. Maybe a pot of buttered noodles? It was lame, but Viktor didn’t have the time or the pantry to care. Pulling out a pot, he filled it with water and set it on the stove. He just prayed the child wasn’t allergic to gluten.

Meanwhile, Yuuri had completely lost interest in what Viktor was doing the moment he realized the food wasn’t _real_ yet. The apartment was much more interesting. His piggy and the envelope in hand, he began to wander. He pulled at knobs of cabinets and then began to climb an absent chair when he found Makkachin.

“Vi-ter!” Yuuri called uncertainly, looking at the poodle like she was about to eat him. Glancing over, Viktor couldn’t help but laugh. Makkachin was probably the world’s softest pup. The only reason she wanted to go to Yuuri was because she wanted to lick him to death.

“It’s okay, Yuuri, Makkachin won’t hurt you.” Walking over, he picked up Yuuri and called Makkachin over. Letting out a small boof, she was more than willing to comply. Yuuri looked betrayed, squirming in his arms like he was about to be fed to the dog. He froze when Viktor gently pat her on the head. “See?” Moving to scratch her behind the ears, Makkachin became poodle soup, falling on her back for Viktor to scratch her tummy.

“Who’s a good doggy!? Makka-Makkachin!” Viktor cooed, scratching her good spot and grinning as her leg began to twitch. “See, Yuuri? All fluff, no bone.” Yuuri watched the poodle with a very perplexed expression as he said something in Japanese. Clearly, this was a high-stakes situation here. In the end he seemed to decide it worth the risk. Reaching out, he gently gave Makkachin a pat on the tummy, only to pull his hand back right away.

Viktor laughed again. “She won’t bite you. Just keep petting and Makkachin will soon love you more than me. She’s pretty easy like that.” Keeping an eye on the two, Viktor set Yuuri back down on the floor and went to drop some noodles into the boiling water. The entire time, Yuuri just stared at Makkachin, every now and then giving a small pat before quickly taking back his hand. By the fifth pat-and-run, he was starting to dig his hands through the fur with a giggle. As for Makkachin, well, she was just happy for the attention really. She stayed flopped and let the kid do what he wanted.

Amused, Viktor watched the exchange from the stove, stirring the noodles every now and then until they were tender enough to eat. Was this Yuuri’s first interaction with a dog? Viktor drained the noodles and plopped a large portion of butter into the pot. A part of him hoped so. He was already rather fond of the kid, and this made it feel like he would leave at least a small, lasting impression on him when he brought him home tomorrow. Perhaps he was a bit more tired than he thought if he was thinking stuff like that. To Yuuri, he was just a passing stranger. There’s no way he’d remember him in years to come. Viktor wasn’t so sure why the thought made his chest so heavy. A few hours ago, he didn’t know who Yuuri was. Life was strange in that way. Now he was a bit sad to have to let him go. Dumping a small portion of the noodles into a bowl and then a bigger one, he grabbed them both and went to the living room.

“Yuuri,” he called, sitting down at the couch. His face half-buried in Makkachin fluff, Yuuri quickly abandoned his new furry friend in favor of food. He ran up to wear Viktor sat and shoved his pig up on the cushion, hiking a knee up and attempting to pull himself over. Viktor reached over and pushed his butt to help the process.“Don’t choke, okay?” Viktor waited for him to sit down in the corner before handing him the bowl. Yuuri cried out joyfully, grabbing at the fork and shoving a pile of noodles in his mouth the moment he had it. He must have liked it because his eyes grew incredibly wide.

“おいしい!” Another forkful was shoved into his mouth. Chuckling, Viktor took another bite of his own. Butter noodles weren’t something he considered a delicacy by any means, but he was at least glad Yuuri liked it. They ate in comfortable silence, Viktor watching Yuuri eat with a thoughtful look. He really was a cute kid, and well-behaved too. Heck, even as an adult, he was probably more trouble than Yuuri was. He didn’t have angry Russian skaters pulling his naked ass out of bed. Despite crying when they first met, Yuuri showed no real sign of distress. Maybe a bit nervous, but well, that was to be expected. The only odd behavior he showed was that envelope still tucked in his fingers.

The thing was driving Viktor’s curiosity through the roof, wondering why the thing was so important to him. He would ask, but he already knew the answer would be a string of Japanese he couldn’t understand. Nothing productive would come from that. Prying it from his hands was always an option, too, but Viktor didn’t like that idea either. He supposed he just would have to wait for him to put it down himself.

"Vi-ter,” Yuuri whined, shoving his empty bowl away.

“トイレに行かなきゃ.”  All Viktor could do was stare because what? He grabbed the bowl, stacked it on his, and set them aside on the coffee table. Meanwhile, Yuuri started tugging at his T-shirt while looking extremely uncomfortable.

“What was that Yuuri?”

“トイレ!”He gave Viktor a frustrated little pout, crawling on his knees and pulling at Viktor’s pants. Viktor could definitely relate to that expression. He was feeling about the same way. “トイレ!”Clearly, he wasn’t going to get what he wanted from Viktor. Looking annoyed, Yuuri yelled another phrase at him before taking matters into his own hands and crawling down the couch. “Hey, where are you going?” Viktor shouted after Yuuri, watching as he stopped in the middle of the room. He looked thoughtful, as if searching for something. Viktor got up once he started toddling down the hall.

“Yuuri?” Completely ignored.  Instead, he babbled to himself in Japanese and took a peak into Viktor’s bedroom. He looked in for a minute before going in.  Yuuri really was quite the go-getter, he mused. With curiosity peaked Viktor and Makkachin both tailed after him.  “Whatcha looking for?”

His answer came in the response of a squeal, Yuuri running into the bathroom and pointing at the toilet. Oh! … _oh._ He quickly pulled out his phone.

“ _Can you do it by yourself?”_ he asked. Yuuri looked at it for a moment, probably gauging its height, before nodding vigorously. Viktor was quite skeptical of that. The toilet was as tall as Yuuri was! His thoughts were proven true as he attempted to climb on top of the seat and nearly dunked himself right into the toilet water.

“Okay yeah, let’s not make it so you have to take a bath tonight.” Walking in, he pulled Yuuri away by the armpits and turned him around so he was standing on the rim. “I’ll hold onto you, so you do your stuff okay?” If Viktor would have been told this morning he’d be helping a three-year-old use the toilet, he would have laughed himself into the ground. Now look at him. Today was certainly a whirl-wind and he was just about ready to crack open that bottle of wine and drink it all in one go.

When he finished, Viktor tugged Yuuri over to wash his hands. Well, it was more of Viktor held him over the sink while he squished the soap between his fingers and played in the water. He even dared to flick Viktor with some, Yuuri giggling as he tried to wipe it away.

“You’re secretly a little monster, aren’t you?” He said, setting him down on the floor. Grabbing a large bath towel, he dropped it right on his little head with a smug grin. Digging himself out, Yuuri peeked through with a wide smile before rubbing it all over himself. He continued to wear it as a cape as they went back to the living room. Being careful not to step on Yuuri, Viktor sat back on the couch and grabbed the television remote. Makkachin joined him, snuggling next to his side and laying his head in Viktor’s lap.

“Want to watch some TV, Yuuri?” He clicked it on, only to be greeted by an exclusive interview with JJ. Viktor was just in time to hear him boast about his JJ STYLE before he saved himself and flipped to a different channel. While he did respective JJ’s skating, it was his attitude that he didn’t like. There was nothing wrong with being a bit cocky, but JJ always seemed to take it too far. He had a habit of using his accomplishments to belittle other competitors. But mostly, he also liked to make fun of Yuri a lot, and consider him overprotective, but that kind of made Viktor want to punch the guy.

Yawning, Yuuri decided not to join them up on the couch. Instead, he grabbed his pig again and went over to where his backpack sat. With a few grunts, he managed to stuff him back inside and zip it back up. Triumphant, he pat the top, never mind the pack of crayons still laying on the floor.

“Vi-ter,” Yuuri said, pulling the towel off his shoulders and handing it over. Viktor took it, feeling a bit apprehensive as he did. What was this little boy planning now? He watched as Yuuri gave Makkachin a little pat on the nose before wandering back to his backpack. Letter in hand, he pulled it back on and stood on his toes to grab the doorknob.

“バイ.”

Viktor was back on his feet in seconds.

He made it just in time, Yuuri barely having the door open before he pressed it shut with one hand and pulled Yuuri away with the other. Perhaps he had hadn’t taken things as seriously as he should have. Somewhere down the line the night had turned into little game between them, one that even Viktor seemed to fall for. He had to admit, it was kind of fun to spend some time with Yuuri. But now he had to deal with the fact that Yuuri wanted to quit and Viktor couldn’t let him.  

“ _No, Yuuri.”_ Pulling out his phone, Viktor typed rapidly. He had to get this across as quickly as possible. “ _It’s late. You have to stay here tonight.”_

Yuuri frowned for a second, the words sinking in before he stomped his foot.

This wasn’t a game of house. Viktor was not his pretend dad. Yuuri was _lost,_ separated from his home and all the ones that he loved in it. Just as they were missing him, it was impossible for Yuuri not to miss them too. Viktor should have took him to the police the moment he found him. It was only his petty and selfishness that had kept him here.

“いいえ、私はママを見つけなければなりません.” Yuuri shoved Viktor away, running back to the knob to try and turn it. Grimacing, Viktor had no choice but to pull him back again. The moment he did, Yuuri broke out into tears. They slid hot and heavy down his cheeks, eyes red and rimmed with tiredness. Desperate to be free, He picked at Viktor’s hands, digging his fingers in in order to make him let go.

“Yuuri, ouch that hurts-“ Yuuri broke his grip and fell forward on his palms with a smack. Viktor winced, guilt lacing his stomach. Should he help him? Let him get up himself? He was so unsure, Yuuri now like a ticking bomb that he didn’t know how to defuse. He felt like any attempt would make things worse. By the time he decided to reach out and lend a hand, Yuuri was already pushing himself back onto his feet and running down the hall.

“Yuuri!” Viktor quickly ran after him, heart pounding in his head. “Yuuri!” He arrived just in time to see Yuuri crawling into the closet. When he noticed Viktor, he made a whimper sound and grabbed at the door. It was way too big for him to even budge, his entire body hiccuping while snot dripped freely down his nose. When it wouldn’t move, Yuuri crawled as far back into the corner as he could.  

“Yuuri, please come out.” Walking over and peering inside, Viktor felt like he had broken the most precious thing in the world. Yuuri was all curled up, his knees folded to his chest and body shaking as he sat pressed against the wall. He held the envelope over his head like it would somehow protect him from all bad things, his hands a harsh red from his fall just moments ago. At the sight of Viktor, he visibly flinched and tried to hide into the clothes.

 “タッチなし, タッチなし.” Whatever he said, it sounded like pleading. Context clues were enough to tell Viktor reaching out for him was a bad idea.

“Oh, Yuuri.” Viktor sat down in front of the closet, laying his head against the wall. So what now? He closed his eyes, listening to Yuuri’s soft cries. Viktor had never felt so useless before. What was the point of winning gold medals if you couldn’t even comfort a damn child? They were just dumb pieces of gold, showcasing fame and fortune, but nothing like warmth or compassion.

They weren’t him, they weren’t Viktor.

He rubbed at his temples.

Who the hell knew who that even was?  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 鉱山- Mine  
> 私はより多くを持つことができます?- Can I have more?  
> あなたはママがどこにいるか知っていますか? - Do you know where Mama is?  
> いいえ- No  
> ママはどこですか- Where is Mama?  
> これは私の豚です！ あなたはそれに触れることはできません！ ママは私のためにそれを買ってくれました！- This is my pig! You can't touch it! Mama bought it for me!  
> “あなたは彼女を見ますか？” - Do you see her?  
> おいしい-Yummy  
> トイレに行かなきゃ- I have to go to the bathroom  
> トイレ- toilet  
> バイ- bye  
> いいえ、私はママを見つけなければなりません- No, I have to find mama!  
> タッチなし, タッチなし- No touch, no touch!  
> There were some Japanese words that I chose to write out, such as arigato (thank you), konnichiwa (hello) and hai (yes). This is because they are words that Viktor knows and I wanted them to be easier for everyone to read/understand. 
> 
>  
> 
> Does this qualify as the "meet cute" cliche trope? I'd say so. Anyways...Originally, this was meant to end differently, but the chapter was getting to be too long so I had to split them in half. I'm not exactly thrilled with how I cut this one off, but it is what it is. 
> 
> Let me know what you guys think so far! It's a little angsty for now, but it kind of has to be to start. I promise lots of Russian family fluff will soon be coming. 
> 
> Next time: Yakov ACTUALLY gets the screen(scream?) time I promised him and Viktor comes to some upsetting conclusions.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for taking so long to upload! I meant to get this up on Monday, but life became suddenly really busy?? I had my cousins wedding, a job interview to prepare for, and then ANOTHER just got engaged, so its been a pretty busy week for me. It didn't help that this chapter decided it wanted to be super long. Like, I've written full stories that are shorter than this puppy. Note to self, outlines are only helpful IF YOU FOLLOW THEM. Apparently, I can't shut up enough to stick to the plan. 
> 
> Anyways, I really had fun writing this chapter, especially the second half. The Russian skaters are beautiful and I love them all. 
> 
> Note: this chapter has references towards child abuse. It's not graphic/descriptive, but I wanted to give a warning

Viktor woke up the next morning well before his alarm was meant to wake him. Staring at the ceiling and blinking his mind awake, he laid there a minute before yesterday’s events came rushing back. Yuuri.

Pushing himself off his bed, Viktor stumbled over to the closet and fell into the wall as he tried to peer in. He let out a breath of relief. Yuuri was still there, fast asleep in a pile of Viktor’s clothes. They covered him in a wild array of fabric and colors, his pig acting as a makeshift pillow while he cuddled into it. Normally it would have upset him to see his clothes getting wrinkly. After all, they were nothing shy of expensive, but Viktor couldn’t bring himself to care much. He was just glad that Yuuri had managed to fall asleep at all.

Last night had been tiring for the both of them. Yuuri had been stubborn and ignored Viktor to the best of his ability, tucking himself in the corner where he thought he couldn’t reach. Even after his crying had stopped he had stared at Viktor with such intense, vulnerable eyes that he hadn’t dared. The moments that Viktor wasn’t typing in some encouraging comments into the translator were spent in silence as they both sort of just sat there.

After a while Viktor got up to toss their clothes in the wash, poured himself a rather large glass of wine, and came back with a small mug of hot chocolate for Yuuri. It took some persuading, but ultimately Yuuri grabbed it and messily sipped at it. Viktor was proud to see that it eased him some. Not much longer the boy was fast asleep, completely knocked out and leaving Viktor to finish up his wine with just his thoughts. 

Viktor watched him for a moment, calming his adrenaline-beating heart, before turning away and getting in the shower. As he pumped shampoo into his hand, he began making a mental checklist of what he needed to do. Take Yuuri in, for one. The plan was to do that before practice, but he’d better text Yakov that he might be late. Yesterday’s fear was nothing when it came to being late two days in a row. Death was a small price to pay compared to what the old man would do to him if _that_ happened.

Yuuri had to be first though, so he would deal with that. After he reunited the little boy with his family, then he’d go to practice and work out that free skate choreography some more. Maybe practice some jumps, since his head was feeling pretty clear today. That might even lead to what the routine was missing. Following practice, he would drag Yuri with him and they’d go grocery shopping. If feeding Yuuri had taught him anything, it was that his house was devoid of well, _everything_. How did he manage to get by with so little in his pantry? Viktor knew he could be oblivious to things, but he hadn’t realized it was that bad. 

Viktor turned off the valves of the shower. Maybe it was time for a change.

Grabbing a towel, he gently patted at his body and wiped up the drips trailing down his torso. He could buy a cookbook, teach himself some recipes, and perhaps even eventually invite Yakov over for dinner to return the favor. Viktor smiled at the thought, throwing the towel over his shoulder and walking naked into his bedroom. So used to passing through his apartment nude, he never even stopped to consider that he wasn’t home alone right now.

As it just so happens, Yuuri chose that precise moment to emerge from the closet. Still on his knees, he turned to look at Viktor and got the full bare view. Normally, Viktor wouldn’t care about such indecent exposure. A great many have seen him naked before, after all. Yakov. Chris. The entire skating community. Half of St. Petersberg.

 Viktor was a pretty crazy drunk. The clothes had a habit of flying off the more alcohol he consumed.

But this instance was different. Never had he ever been scrutinized by sp,epme who looked so _perplexed_ before. Startled? Yes. Mortified? Quite often. Encouraging? More than one’d think, especially when a Swiss skater was involved. But nobody had ever looked at him like they were trying to figure out the mathematical equation as to why he was naked. Yuuri was staring, eyes growing impossibly wider by the minute.

“なぜあなたは裸ですか？”

Viktor dropped the towel to hide his privates.

“Morning Yuuri!” He exclaimed, cheeks burning pink. Viktor was hardly ever embarrassed, and yet here he was. Blushing. He wrapped the towel around his waist and tied it so it wouldn’t fall.

As if a spell was broken, Yuuri pulled himself onto his feet and rubbed at his eyes with a small yawn. He didn’t seem to be as wary of Viktor as he had last night, which was reassuring. The thought of having to drag him down to the station wasn’t exactly a pleasant thought. Well, neither was taking him out with his hair in such a… unique disarray. Yuuri’s hair looked like it hadn’t been brushed in ages, the black strands sticking up in odd directions. Combined with his outfit, he truly was a sight to see.

Stifling a laugh, Viktor walked over to unplug his phone from the charger.

“ _Good morning, little sunshine_ ,” he said, taking a seat on the bed. “ _Are you ready to go find your mama today?”_ At the word Yuuri immediately lit up, running over to Viktor and latching onto his bare leg with rapid Japanese. Viktor gave a pat to his outrageous hair.

During his lamination with his wine, he had spent some time on google looking up some of the Japanese Yuuri had been using. _Mama_ was one of the ones of the easier ones, since it was similar enough to both Russian and English pronunciation. He was also aware of _toilet, hungry,_ and a couple of others, which he thought might be important words to recognize in case Yuuri used them. He knew that that didn’t guarantee that he would notice them in Yuuri’s speech, but it was worth a shot.

Having no idea on what Yuuri just said to him, Viktor decided to count the eager look on his face as a yes.

_“I’m sure she has been looking all over for you. I just want to get a couple of things together and then we can go, okay?_ As the woman’s voice faded, Yuuri nodded and smiled at Viktor. 

“hai, Vik-ter.” 

“ _Good boy.”_ Setting his phone aside, Viktor got up and started digging in his closet. He ignored the giant pile of clothes piled on the floor- he’d clean that up later- and grabbed one of the shirts off the hanger. It was navy blue button up, incredibly soft and the perfect shade to contrast the paleness of his skin. Next he picked out some underwear and a pair of black pants, which, as Chris told him when he bought them, emphasized all his valuable _ass_ ets.

Okay, so _maybe,_ he was trying to look good on purpose. But he was going to be meeting Yuuri’s family, and he wanted to make sure he left a good impression. The name Viktor Nikiforov was all well and good but in case that they didn’t recognize him, it was best to come prepared.

Buckling his pants and slipping on his socks, he turned to Yuuri as he sat on the floor talking softly to his pig. Figuring he wouldn’t move while he was gone, Viktor left to go drag their clothes out of the dryer. Along the way he met with Makkachin, who practically leapt into his arms off the couch at the sight of him.

“Easy, baby,” he cooed, catching her and rubbing her neck affectionately. It was with a heavy heart that he made her sleep out of the bedroom last night, worried that she must disturb Yuuri. It was actually a pretty big deal for them, since the only time they didn’t share a bed was when he was away on trips. Those usually resulted in spoiling her rotten when he got back. Once, he took her to a doggy and me spa. Yuri and Mila made fun of him for months afterwards, but Viktor had no regrets. His body had never felt so relaxed.

“You’ve really been getting the short end of the stick, huh?” he nuzzled his nose against hers. “Don’t worry, you’ll always be papa’s number one. I’ll make this all up to you soon.” Laughing as she licked at his cheek happily, he pushed her down and yanked their clothes out of the dryer.

When he returned to his bedroom, Yuuri was peeking out the window and watching the streets. The sun was steadily rising, painting the city with its morning light and killing the shadows of night. It was only a little after 7, but the people of St. Petersberg was slowly crowding the city as they began their day.

“ _Yuuri,”_ Viktor typed after dropping their clothes on the bed. “ _Do you think you can dress yourself this morning?”_ He picked Yuuri’s sweater and pants apart from his own clothes, handing them over as Yuuri gave him a big thumbs up. As he grabbed the ends of the T-shirt to take it off, Viktor left him to it, packing up his own workout bag for the day. He removed the clothes from yesterday and replaced them with a cleaner set, stuffing them in and zipping it up. He then went in and retrieved Yuuri’s bag from the closet.

“Looking good.” He gave Yuuri his own thumbs up as he spun in a circle to show Viktor that he changed his clothes all by himself. When he finished his spin he held his arms up in a pose, making a ‘Y’.

“やったよ！”he said proudly. Viktor smiled, bending down and gesturing for Yuuri to come over and slide his toy into his backpack. He didn’t want Yuuri accidently setting it down somewhere and losing it.

Standing up after he helped Yuuri pull the pack onto his back, he grabbed his own bag and led the two of them into the rest of the apartment. Makkachin patted over as they emerged, stopping Yuuri as she sniffed at his tummy. Yuuri eyed her cautiously before patting her on the ears with a small smile.

“子犬!” He looked at Viktor, squishing the poodle’s fur in-between his fingers. Viktor wasn’t sure exactly what he wanted but gave him a smile regardless. Bending down, he typed into his phone.

“ _Her name is Makkachin.”_

Makka-chin.” Yuuri tried, laughing as she tried to lick at his face in response. “Makkachin!” He wrapped his arms around her. Viktor smiled, the act warming his heart. With no shame he took a quick photo of them. There was nothing wrong with having a memento of the past night, right?

“ _Come on, Yuuri. Let’s get you home.”_ Offering his hand, he waited patiently for Yuuri to grab it before leading him towards the door.

 

The police station wasn’t within walking distance, especially for Yuuri, and so as they left the apartment building, Viktor started tugging them in the direction of the bus stop.

The morning air was chilly, though rather warm for early October. It was just enough for them to breathe and see it, small puffs of white huffing out passed their lips and melting away in the air. Leaves that had been blown from their trees last night dotted the sidewalk and the streets. As the two of them walked, they crunched nosily under their feet.

At his side, Yuuri stayed close as he could to Viktor as they walked, though his eyes curiously observed everything. Now and then he would look up at him and prattle away in Japanese, not even waiting to see if Viktor would try to answer before becoming distracted by something else. Viktor would have paid a great sum of money if he could understand even half of what that little boy was thinking, but even then he had a feeling he’d still be left confused.

Instead he let Yuuri preoccupy himself, pulling out his phone with his free hand and texting both Yakov and Yuri that he was going to be late to practice with a promise of explaining why later. He figured mentioning Yuuri over text would just complicate things. Not much later his phone pinged with both their responses. A wise man, Viktor decided to ignore them. Even the several other messages that followed.

Halfway to the stop, Viktor pulled Yuuri up into his arms and walked into the same café he had went into yesterday for breakfast. The building was long and narrow, smelling of coffee beans and vanilla as people swirled around each other to get to their coffee. It wasn’t the most popular of shops, but Viktor liked it for its unique, old-fashioned décor. What other café had a giant wooden wheel from the 1800’s on their wall? Exactly.

Viktor smiled at a group of people who recognized him before getting in line. Even with his back turned, he could feel their eyes burning into his back as Yuuri wiggled in his arms. He chose to ignore them, leaning forward and pointing out things in the display case for Yuuri to look at. There were several items to choose from—bagels, muffins, _pirozhki,_ donuts, and cakes, to name a few— and Yuuri took a good few minutes to decide before pointing out an apple _pirozhki_ with an interested look.

Amused, Viktor paid for two to share, a box of juice for Yuuri, and a large coffee for himself. If only Yuri was here to see this. Apparently, _pirozhkis_ were the food of choice for any Yuri. As they sat down at a table and Yuuri started to munch on his treat, Viktor couldn’t contain himself and took another picture. He was positive this would bug the hell out of Yuri and Viktor needed to _live it._

They didn’t stay in the café for long. After he helped wipe the crumbs from Yuuri’s sweater and an impromptu bathroom expedition, Viktor had Yuuri back in his arms as they crossed the last stretch of sidewalk to the bus stop.

Yuuri seated securely in his lap as they piled onto the bus, Viktor couldn’t help but begin to wonder what he was about to walk into. These people; he knew nothing about them. The only thing he was sure of was that his parents had to be Japanese, and that was only because Yuuri was an obvious indication of that. Were they kind and understanding, or were they angry and cold? Would they blame Viktor for their son’s disappearance, or just be happy that he was found?

Viktor supposed either option was possible. But, just as uneasy as they would feel about him, Viktor couldn’t help himself from feeling the same way. He knew he was doing the right thing, but that didn’t make it feel any less uncomfortable. After all, they did _lose_ their son. While Viktor understood mistakes happened, this was a pretty big one. Part of him needed the reassurance that they wouldn’t lose him again. Viktor knew it wasn’t his place to think like that, but he couldn’t help but feel responsible for Yuuri.

Their spot coming up, Viktor reached up to signal for the bus to stop. In the end, he would have to see.

The station was a large, three-story building used as the primary offices for the law enforcement of the city. It towered above them with gray, cracked bricks and windows that needed a good cleaning as Russia’s flag tossed and turned in the breeze. Off to the side was the parking lot, where several police cars sat idle. Viktor wasn’t all that familiar with the place, to be honest. He had only been here once to help his mother bail his father out of jail. That wasn’t really a memory he liked to reflect on.

Following the stone steps up to the front, Viktor pushed open the doors and stepped into the lobby. The place was in severe need of redecoration, the walls barren and aged with sunspots from the windows that coated the sides. There were pictures of Russia’s landscape, but they were small and few, hardly anything to brighten up the place. Even the chandelier didn’t do great at that, though it was probably the only thing worth looking at. Several chairs lined the walls and an old elevator sat in the corner, the rest of the station hidden behind a door that led to the back and one that went off to the side. Fixated in the center was the circulation desk, a woman currently typing away at her computer.  

“Hello,” Viktor smiled as he walked up to the receptionist. He held Yuuri a little tighter, feeling him look around the room.

“Good morning, sir,” she said politely, nodding her head and folding her hands in her lap. “How may I help you?”

“I would like to report a lost child.” He set Yuuri down so he was standing on the desk, hands on his hips to make sure he wouldn’t fall. “I found this little boy wondering the streets last night and I need to find his parents.”

“Hello, sweetie,” she waved, Yuuri smiling shyly as he tottered back into Viktor. Looking a bit disappointed from Yuuri’s lack of reply, she turned back to Viktor. “If you wait just a moment, I can call someone down to help you.”

“Thank you,” Viktor nodded, grabbing Yuuri and setting him on the floor. The receptionist picked up the phone and dialed a number, talking quietly into the receiver. Meanwhile, Viktor tugged Yuuri over to some chairs and kept his attention by giving him his phone to play with. About ten minutes later, a man with slicked back blonde hair, broad shoulders, and extremely dark eyes approached them with a thin smile.

“Hello,” he greeted, shaking Viktor’s hand. “I am Ivan Petrov. I work in the families department here. I understand you’re reporting a found, lost child?” at Viktor’s nod, Ivan finally knelt down in front of Yuuri with a much kinder smile then he had displayed earlier. “That must be you, then. Can you tell me your name?”

“Yuuri is all I know,” Viktor answered, picking him up in a wave of protectiveness. Immediately the little boy pressed his face into Viktor’s shoulder and wearily eyed Ivan. “He doesn’t speak Russian, unfortunately.”  

“That certainly makes things more difficult, doesn’t it?” he stood up. “Well, Mr.-“

“Viktor Nikiforov.” The man’s eyebrows shot up at the name, but otherwise made no obvious reaction that he recognized it.

“If you wouldn’t mind following me to my office, we can look further into this matter.” Viktor gave him a nod, following him across the entrance and through a door and up a flight of stairs into a hall. The décor was even more barren than before, the walls empty and devoid of any color besides beige. There was only a single window at the end of the hall; the rest was lit up with the flickering yellow of wall lights.

They stopped at the door second from the end, Ivan holding it open for them to walk through. It was about as plain as the rest of the place. Only a set of filing cabinets, a desk piled with papers and a laptop, and two chairs filling the room. The only sign of originality was the giant painting of a flower framed where a window ought to be. Though Viktor could make out the vague design of chamomile, the erratic coloring of the stem and irregular shape of the white petals gave it an abstract look. It clearly wasn’t a professional piece. Rather, it looked like the drawing of small child.

“My daughter painted that,” Ivan said once he noticed what Viktor was looking at. He gestured for him to take a seat. “She has a great love for finger painting. I can’t wait to see her work when she turns five.”

Viktor went ahead and plopped Yuuri down in the seat next to him, watching as Ivan took his place behind the desk. Funny, he never would have pegged him for a family man. He looked too stern, too stiff-jawed. Yet here he was, framing his daughter’s artwork like it was a masterpiece.

“So, Mr. Nikiforov, if you would please tell me the circumstances that have brought you here.” He clicked a pen and pulled some paper over, eyes on Viktor as he waited for him to start. Viktor looked at Yuuri for a moment, his little hands fumbling in his lap.

This was going to work out, right? He’d get this boy home to his family and then they’d go their separate ways. Yuuri would grow up and Viktor would go back to whatever it was he was doing these days. Skating, drinking, dancing with chains. Yuuri was a great distraction from it all, but it was time to get back to his reality.

Taking a deep breath, Viktor began the story. He told Ivan everything he knew. The place where they met, how he took him in during the storm, even the details that he had managed to figure out about Yuuri. They were small and probably offered nothing to the investigation, but he felt like it was important to share the little things he learned. From the way he had to announce when he thought something tasted good to how whenever something made him happy he would shy away behind his hands, Viktor considered them wonderful anecdotes about who this child was. At the very least, he found them to be important.

As he spoke, Ivan continued to write down on his paper, every now and then looking up at Viktor. He would sometimes ask a question for clarification, but otherwise he mostly listened. When Viktor finished, the man sat back and stroked his chin.

“This is a… unique and rather difficult case.” He cast a look towards Yuuri, who was preoccupied with drawing squiggles on one of the coloring books Viktor had pulled out for him.

“Can you help him?”

“The thing is, Mr. Nikiforov, I have not received any reports about a lost Japanese boy in the past couple of days. Ever, actually. ” At this news, Viktor frowned.

“How is that possible? Yuuri has been asking for his mother since I found him! You’re saying that nobody has bothered to report him missing?” Viktor grit his teeth, fingers curing into fists as anger sizzled the blood beneath his skin. He hardly ever got irritated. Perhaps annoyed, but Viktor was able to contain his emotions behind a calm façade. But right now, he could barely hold himself back.

“Don’t lose hope yet, Mr. Nikiforov. It is still incredibly early. Not even a full day has passed since you found him. It is entirely possible that they are still out their searching and haven’t attempted to contact the police yet. If we are to believe they are also Japanese, they might be afraid to come forward.” Viktor didn’t understand that. How could they allow themselves to be scared if their son’s life was on the line?

“What are we supposed to do, then?”

“Well, we wait. I will do my best to search for them. I will call surrounding cities and do some diging. I promise you, Mr. Nikiforov. If his parents are looking for him, then we _will_ find them.”

“And what about Yuuri?”

“I would like to ask him a few questions, if possible. We might be able to get some more information from him. Afterwards, we can take care of him from here. I’ll get in touch with child services and-“

 “No, it’s okay.” Viktor shook his head quickly, cutting him off. He didn’t stop to think about what he was saying. All he knew was that having someone take Yuuri away that weren’t his parents twisted his stomach into knots. In a fit of protectiveness, he grabbed Yuuri from his chair and held him tightly on his lap. Yuuri looked at him curiously, red crayon still tightly held in his hand. “I don’t mind watching him until you find his parents.”

“Mr. Nikiforov, I’m not sure-“

Vik-ter?” Yuuri tugged at his sleeve. Ignoring Ivan, Viktor wrapped his arms around Yuuri and began typing into his phone so they both could see.  

“ _Yuuri, it seems like your mama isn’t back yet.”_ Yuuri made a noise, looking around as if he might be able to find her himself. Viktor had to shush him, bouncing him gently on his leg and drawing his attention back to him. “ _But don’t worry! I am sure she will be back for you soon. She’s just… busy, and will be back for you later.”_ He hoped the translator wasn’t making any mistakes. “ _This just means you can come spend the day with me! Let’s go on an adventure! Doesn’t that sound exciting!? We have a lot of fun together, don’t we?”_ Yuuri nodded his head shyly, bringing his fingers to his lips to bite on. “ _Great!”_ Viktor looked back at Ivan.

“Look. I’ll give you my phone number and address, and then you can call me as soon as you hear something. It will take his mind off of all this, and that way you don’t have to do the paperwork.” Ivan still didn’t look convinced, looking at Yuuri with subtle concern. Viktor couldn’t help but feel insulted. “If I wanted to kidnap him, I wouldn’t have brought him here the first place.”

“Mr. Nikiforov, I wasn’t insinuating anything of the sort. I merely didn’t want to make you feel responsible for what happens next. But, I suppose he will probably be more comfortable with somebody he trusts.” He shuffled around some papers, pulling out a blank sheet and handing it and a pen to Viktor. “Write down your information here and I will call you as soon as I have any information on his family.”

Viktor grinned as he scribbled down what he wanted to know. It looked like his time with Yuuri wasn’t quite over with. While he was upset that Yuuri’s parents hadn’t come forward, he couldn’t help the warmth that spread from knowing he was able to spend a couple more hours with Yuuri until they said goodbye.

“ _Come on Yuuri, let’s go ice skating.”_

_***_

Practice was well underway when Viktor walked into the rink with Yuuri hitched on his hip. Barely through the doors and he could already hear Yakov barking critiques at Yuri while he skated across the ice, hands raised to the ceiling as he worked on his agape. It was a choreography Viktor had written, a gift he had given to Yuri for his 15th birthday to use in his debut. Agape no longer felt like a love he could express. Yuri, however. Yuri was perfect for the role. He was innocent to love and capable of expressing it. Despite the fact that his emotions always seemed to be flipped on angry, Viktor knew nobody else could express the heart of the routine like he could.

As for everybody else, both Mila and Georgi could be found on the bleachers, skates on but bent over Mila’s phone in thought. If he could guess, he’d probably figure they were observing somebodies routine for reference. It was normal for Yakov to have the look at skaters who excelled in skills that they themselves lacked in.

Viktor pushed away any nerves he had and made his way towards them.

“Oh. My. God.” Yuri was the first to notice his approach as he twirled out of his spin, his jaw dropping as his eyes locked on Yuuri sitting in Viktor’s arms. His surprise alerted the others, and Mila, Georgi, and Yakov turned their heads to see what the fuss was about.

“Holy _shit,”_ Mila grinned.

“Is Viktor carrying a _child?”_ Gerogi blinked like he couldn’t believe what he saw.

Yakov looked like his heart had stopped. The closer Viktor got, the paler his face became. It was rather unnerving, especially when Yakov always had something to say. Yet here he was, _speechless._ Scrutinized by so many eyes, Yuuri hid into Viktor’s shoulder.

“Fuck, is he _yours?”_ Yuri skated towards the barrier, leaning over to get a closer look.

“ _Holy SHIT!”_ Mila covered her mouth in surprise. “I mean, I thought this could happen but I didn’t think that _this would happen!”_ Yakov looked like he was about to have a heart attack, the vein on his temple visibly throbbing. His eyes looked like they were about to ooze out of their sockets, they were so wide.

“Hold on a minute, Mila! He’s not mine!” Viktor shouted, shaking his head frantically as he adjusted Yuuri in his arms. How was that even a consideration? They looked nothing alike! “I… found him.” Yakov looked like he was finally able to breathe, the color starting to return to his face. That color, of course, was red.

“What do you mean you “found him?” Yakov asked, stepping forward and standing dangerously close.

“Well it was raining and I couldn’t leave him out there by himself! So I kind of just… took him.”

“You… took him. Right off the streets.”

“Yes.” There was a moment of pause as they all just looked at him.

“YOU CAN’T JUST TAKE A CHILD. THERE IS A WORD FOR THAT _VITYA_ , IT’S CALLED KIDNNAPING!” The vein on Yakov’s forehead looked like it was about to explode and take them all with him. Startled by the loud noise, Yuuri started to cry.

“Vik-ter…!”

“It’s not the same, I had no choice!” Viktor huffed, Patting Yuuri’s back gently as he tried to squirm away.

“Aw, way to go you made the little guy cry.” Mila scooted her way over towards Viktor, making her own attempt to sooth Yuuri with a smile. “Don’t worry, Yakov can be scary to all of us sometimes.” She stuck her tongue out at Yakov, who in turn looked at them all like he was about to jump off a cliff. Yet, despite his anger, he did lower his voice.

“Of all the impulsive thing’s you’ve done, _Vitya_ …! Please tell me you at least reported him.”

“Why do you think I was late? That’s where I came from.”

“Then why the hell is the brat still here?” Yuri crossed his arms, scowling as Yuuri continued to whimper.

“His parents haven’t reported him missing, yet.” Viktor frowned. “They’re going to look for them, but in the meantime someone needs to watch him.”

“So you said you’d take care of him!? You have a competition coming up! You don’t have time for this nonsense!” and Yakov was back to yelling.

“So I’ll do both.” Shrugging, he finally set Yuuri down as his crying turned into sniffles. He hugged Viktor’s leg, looking at all the other skaters with worry. “It’ll be fine, Yakov. Don’t worry so much. That nasty rash will come back. I said it yesterday, and I’ll say it again. I won’t let anything effect my skating.”

A moment of tense silence passed.

“Fine. Do whatever you want! It’s not like you’ve ever listen to me anyways.” Yakov shook his head and rubbed at his temples. “I need a drink.” He turned around and stomped away to his office. All of them watched until his door slammed shut, Viktor giving a sigh of relief as it did. By all accounts, that could have gone worse.

“So does that mean this cutie is going to be spending the day with us,” Mila cooed, getting on her knees to get a better look at Yuuri.

“Yup!” Viktor grinned.

“What’s his name, anyways?” Georgi asked, joining her.

“Yuuri.”

“Oh fuck no!” Yuri shouted, Viktor jumping forward to cover little Yuuri’s ears.

“Language, Yuri!”

“Viktor, he doesn’t even know what the fuck I’m saying. I could say all the shit I want to and that kid won’t know the difference.” Viktor glared, still not moving his hands.  

“Yeah, well, I’m not taking any chances.” Yuri looked like he was about to throttle him.

“Oh come on, _Yura._ It’s cute! He’s a little you!”

“Shut up, hag!” In a dramatic movement of his arms, Yuri then skated away like the teenager he was. Mila just grinned, stretching her limbs as she stood up again.

“What do you plan to do with him?” Georgi asked, watching Yuuri with a faint smile. He waved when he had the boy’s attention. Yuuri didn’t exactly return it, but he did seem more at ease since Yakov had left.

 “He has stuff to do.” Viktor gently pat him on the head. “As long as we keep an eye out, I don’t think he’ll run off. He’s a pretty good boy.”

“Oh, you know nothing about kids, do you?” Mila hummed.

“And you do?”

“I’ll have you know, I have a little niece! Cutest little thing. But, the moment you set her on the ground- she’s _gone.”_

“I’m sure he’ll be fine.” Viktor said, though he was a little less confident now. Maybe he should invest in a leash.

“We’ll help you watch him,”Georgi nodded, giving him a pat on the shoulder. From her side, Mila gave a thumbs up. Viktor gave a smile of appreciation. He wasn’t sure what he would have done if they hadn’t been so warm towards Yuuri. Bending down, he grabbed one of Yuuri’s hands.

“ _Yuuri, I’ll be right back, okay? These are my friends. They will take good care of you.”_ he pat him on the head, leading him over to Mila’s outstretched hand. While Yuuri took it, he never looked away from Viktor.

“私はあなたと一緒に行きたいです.”

“Aww, don’t worry little Yuuri! We can have fun while we wait!” She and Georgi both gave him warm smiles. Feeling a bit guilty for leaving him, Viktor left the two of them to it. He made his way to the locker room, stripping out of his clothes the moment he did. After he managed to kick his things into his locker, he grabbed his skates and a few towels and made his way back out to the rink.

It seemed Mila did have a way with kids. Perhaps it was her bouncy personality. Either way, Yuuri looked a lot happier than when Viktor had left. She had him swaying in place, moving their arms in some sort of dance. Georgi was watching off to the side.

“Vik-ter,” he giggled, counting on Mila to hold him up as his legs bent and he dipped backwards. Grinning, Viktor set his skates down and began laying out the towels so Yuuri would have a place to sit.

“We have a little dancer here,” Mila laughed, putting Yuuri back on his feet. “I barely had my arms moving and he was already swaying.” She let go of his hands so he could scamper over to Viktor. He reached around to gently pull off his backpack, unzipping the pack and handing him his pig. While he was busy swaying in place with it, Viktor also put down his coloring book, crayons and his storybook.

“ _This is your spot, Yuuri,”_ Viktor typed. He reached over and helped Yuuri plop down on his butt. “ _I have to go practice out there, but I want you to stay here, okay? No getting up and wandering off. If you’re a good boy, I promise cookies!”_

Yuuri’s eyes widened at that, his fingers playing with his pig’s ears.

“私は良いだろう, Vik-ter. 私はママになると約束した.” Viktor gave him a pat on the head.

_“Why don’t you draw me a picture?”_ Maybe he could give it to Yakov and calm him down a little. Nobody could say no to that. If he couldn’t win the man over with reason, then he’d have to do it with cute.

“Hai!” Yuuri pulled his crayons over with a cute little hum, leaving Viktor to go and pull on his skates. He was just tying the laces when Yakov emerged from his cave. His coach didn’t say anything, didn’t even cast a glance. Instead he yelled at Yuri to tighten his form and returned to his place against the barrier.

Viktor stood up with a frown, sighing and checking to make sure Yuuri was still occupied.

“Can you… watch him?” Viktor asked hesitantly, stopping just shy of the ice. Yakov looked at him. Was that out of line? Viktor wasn’t sure, but Yakov was always somebody he could count on. He had dealt with a lot of Viktor shit and, quite frankly, he was probably the only person that could.

Yakov grunted. “Just get on the ice, _Vitya.”_ A soft smile crept over his lips. It wasn’t a direct answer, but Viktor knew him well enough to know it wasn’t a no.

“Yes, coach.” Viktor pulled off his skate guards and slid into the rink. Despite all the lines already carved into the surface, his golden blades effortlessly skated him across it.  

Viktor breathed deeply, inhaling through his nose and exhaling through the mouth. He hadn’t realized how much he needed to be on the ice until now. It was like a breath of fresh air, a moment of freedom. Yuuri was a precious kid and Viktor still held no regrets of helping him, but he had brought a weight that fit right below his shoulder blades.

Now, as he slid across the ice and stretched his limbs, he could feel it melt off his body and puddle to the floor. Here on the ice, he didn’t have to worry about anything but the melodies in his head. Just because Viktor loved to perform didn’t mean he didn’t crave solitude. The ice brought him that.

Even when he was a kid, he’d run out with his skates to the nearby pond and skate the day away. His house never had felt as warm as the ice did. It embraced him, danced with him as he stepped and spun and jumped. Through it he was able to tell stories from the deepest part of himself. The ice was his voice.

His body warmed and stretched, Viktor cast a quick look at Yuuri before getting in position for a simple jump. He landed it perfectly. Viktor grinned, sharply turning on the ice and sliding into a step sequence he had used for his previous routine. The music had been a combination of tango and ballet, designed to make use of speed while still capturing elegance. Just as the keys pounded in his head, Viktor stepped out and into a spin, his hands raised as he lowered himself to the floor.

Even as he began to slow Viktor could feel the music in him shift, orchestra taking over the lone sound of violin. Lyrics curled around him and ghosted over arms and legs to pull him into a newer routine. An imperfect one. Stammi Vicino began to play in his head.

Viktor didn’t know why he felt so attached to the song, only that when he first heard it brought tears to his eyes. “Stay Close to Me” had hit a deep part of him. It echoed his feeling of longing for the one thing that he couldn’t find. The lyrics may be simple but between them he could feel the sticky, black mess that he was too familiar with. They dripped with the same tangle he was swept up in. He wanted to bring those feelings to the ice.

But how was he supposed to present emotions that he didn’t understand? It was why he was having such difficulty choreographing the routine. While nothing looked wrong, nothing felt right. He was close- he could feel it in his skates. But the frustration was distracting and so was Yakov’s nagging. At this rate, he wouldn’t have a complete and perfect routine for the Grand Prix. Where disappointing everyone used to drive him, now it just felt like a burden.

 “Oi, Viktor!” Viktor’s vision was suddenly full of angry blonde, Yuri skating backwards in front of him in an attempt to get his attention. Apparently, he had been trying to get his attention for a while. “Are you finally listening? Your idiot kids trying to get on the ice!” Blinking, Viktor looked over to see Yuuri sitting by the entrance, his hand cautiously touching the ice. He seemed startled by how cold it actually was, though adamant to get on it.

 “Don’t tell me you didn’t notice. He’s been staring at you for the last ten minutes!”

“Has he?” Viktor asked, a smile creeping across his face.

“ _Yes,_ idiot.  Don’t look so happy about that, that’s weird.” Yuri gave him a light shove on the shoulder, just enough to show he was irritated while making sure to not actually shove Viktor to the ground.

“Hmm.” He hummed in response, not really listening. Instead he focused on Yakov on the move. The old man was grumbling, heading for Yuuri and pulling him right into his arms with a shake of his head.

 Now that was a strange image. Big, grumpy Yakov holding small, timid Yuuri. Yuuri seemed to be just as shocked as Yakov’s skaters, eyes wide as a scolding finger was wagged in his face.

“Now that’s not something you see every day,” Mila giggled, joining them. “I didn’t know Yakov even knew how to hold a kid.” Viktor could attest to that. Yakov liked to yell, and believe it or not, most kids didn’t do too well under that type of pressure. You only became worth his time when you could get over it. For Viktor, he just didn’t care. He did whatever suited him best. As for the rest of them, his methods matched Yuri’s personality perfectly, Mila was quick-witted, and Georgi learned best under an iron fist. He was an amazing couch, if you could handle him. Clearly their accomplishments could attest to that.

They watched as Yuuri reached up to pull at Yakov’s face.

“Or maybe not.” Just like Viktor, the other two couldn’t contain their laughter as Yuuri’s little fingers squished and pulled the cheeks of a very speechless Yakov. More than speechless, he looked _lost._ Even from here Viktor could tell Yuuri was talking to him, probably enlightening him on complex, three-year-old ideas, and oh my god Viktor had _tears,_ actual tears in his eyes from laughing.

 “Does anybody have a camera?” Georgi joined them, looking just as amused.

“Already on it, my friend.” Mila pulled her phone out from… _somewhere_ under her clothes and started recording. “This is going on the internet. Yuuri 2.0 does amazing work.”

“Hey!” Yuri complained.

“Don’t worry, _Yura,_ you’ll always be number one in my heart.” Mila winked at him, earning a disgusted look.

“You can kiss my ass, Mil-“

“ _VITYA_!” Yakov voice cut across the ice, his eyes searching across the arena and searing into Viktor’s the moment he found him. Like, actual burning. They might have to re-freeze the ice, burning.

Viktor took that as his cue to skate over. He made sure to wipe away the tears first.

 “Hey, Yuuri~” Viktor drew out his name, ignoring Yakov’s glare and instead enjoying the smile that sparked to life on the little boy’s face. “Having fun?”

“Vik-ter!”

“Does this child have any manners?” Yakov scowled.

“He is a good boy!” Viktor put his hands on his hips. “Don’t be a party pooper. He was just having fun. I think he likes watching me skate.” An idea occurred to him. “Did you want to come out here, Yuuri?”

 “ _Vitya,_ don’t even-“

“I’m taking a break, okay?” Viktor quickly bent over the barrier and yanked Yuuri right out of Yakov’s arms before he could run away with him. “You two can bond later.” Yakov spluttered after him but Viktor payed him no mind. Instead he smiled down at Yuuri, holding him tightly so he wouldn’t slip from his grip.

It was a big moment of trust for them, especially as Viktor started to slowly glide across the ice. By most accounts, this probably wasn’t the _safest_ thing for him to do. Especially with a child that wasn’t actually his. He made a mental note not to mention this to his parents later.

But the way Yuuri behaved, he seemed drawn to the ice. It was such an innocent fascination that Viktor felt like he had to ignite that curiosity. Not just as skating legend, but as _Viktor,_ he couldn’t let it pass by. The ice meant so much to him, and showing Yuuri even just a little bit of that warmed his chest.

It didn’t even matter if Yuuri wouldn’t remember this. His reactions were worth it.

He was timid, at first. Yuuri clung to Viktor’s neck, his eyes locked on Viktor’s skates as they sliced through the ice. But then Viktor pointed out Yuri as he attempted a triple salchow, the landing a bit shaky but otherwise flawless. Yuuri was hooked. He watched Yuri flow into a spin with the utmost fascination, even attempting to crawl higher in Viktor’s arms as he skated out of his view.

“You like ice skating, don’t you my little Yuuri?” Viktor hugged him tighter, picking up his pace a bit.

Viktor didn’t attempt anything extreme. He wasn’t an idiot. But he did twist himself around, skating backwards for a moment so Yuuri could continue to watch Yuri. He wasn’t working on his agape, but his free skate, stepping into his spin and becoming a blur.

“He’s pretty good, isn’t he?” Viktor turned around, continuing to follow the barrier around again and again with a gentle hum on his lips. He knew he needed to get back to practice, but a part of him was not ready to let go yet.

Just for a little while longer, he wanted Yuuri to feel what it was like to skate.

***

“I still have no idea why _I_ had to come with,” Yuri complained as he followed behind Viktor into the apartment, two large paper bags stuffed in his arms. “Couldn’t you get someone else to be your pack mule?”

“Oh shush,” Viktor, holding his own bag, set Yuuri down on the floor and placed his own on the counter. Yuuri, who held his own white plastic bag, dramatically threw his to the ground with a giggle. He and Makkachin then ran off together. “You want a free meal, don’t you?” Yuri scoffed but didn’t seem to have a rebuttal for that. Instead, he grumpily set the bags on the counter.

“If you think I’m helping you put these away, you’re delusional.” In the most dramatic way possible, Yuri stomped over to the couch and sat down. In two loud clunks, he had his feet up on the coffee table and was reaching for the TV remote.

“You’re always such a charmer, _Yura._ ” Viktor rolled his eyes. “At least entertain Yuuri while I make dinner, then.” At the sound of his name, Yuuri looked up from where he had distracted himself with Makkachin.

“No way, I’m not a babysitter!”

“Your right, babies shouldn’t babysit babies.” Yuri looked positively offended. Good. That’s exactly what Viktor was going for. He shoved milk, cheese, and several other items into the fridge.

“Of all people, you are _not_ allowed to say that.” Was he _pouting_?

“Ouch! You cut me so deep!”

“Shut up, old man,” Yuri grumbled, slouching in his seat and flipping through the channels. Yuuri, who seemed to be done with Makkachin for now, grabbed his stuffed pig and made an attempt to join Yuri on the couch. Viktor tried not to laugh at how long it actually took him to manage to do it. Instead, he focused on stuffing the rest of the groceries away.

“What do you want, piggy?” Yuri was in complete refusal to use Yuuri’s actual name. He was under the impression that there could ‘only be one’ and so he had latched onto the first nickname he could think of. Unfortunately, since Yuuri’s favorite toy was a pig, it wasn’t that hard. Viktor just wished it wasn’t quite so mean.

“Yuri, be nice.” Both Yuri and Yuuri looked at him. Damn this was confusing. “ _Yura.”_ He corrected.

“It’s my damn name, I’m not sharing it with anybody, least of all a little brat you found on the street.” Viktor scowled at him.

“What?!” Yuri threw his hands in the air. “That _is_ where you found him, isn’t it? I can’t believe you actually went and bought him clothes today, too. “

“It’s not like I had anything else he could wear.” He banged out two pans and set them on the stove. There had been no call from Ivan throughout the day, and Viktor was figuring Yuuri was going to have to stay another night. He started preparing the rice, dumping all the right ingredients in after a brief glance at instructions. “He’s already worn that twice. I probably should try and give him a bath tonight.” That was sure to be interesting.

“Face it, Viktor. You’re getting attached.” Yuri frowned. “It’s only been a day and you’re already doting on him. You do realize he’s someone else’s kid, right?”

“Of course I know that.” Probably a bit too aggressively, Viktor started cutting at some chicken to fry. Even he could manage to cook chicken and rice for a meal. “What do you want me to do, toss him in a closet with some food and water and leave it at that? He’s _three,_ he can’t take care of himself.”

“You barely can take care of yourself, idiot. Where do you get off thinking you can help him?” If Viktor didn’t know Yuri, he would have taken it as an insult. Instead, he recognized it for the underlying concern that it was. Viktor sighed, pushing the chicken into the frying pan.

“Don’t worry so much. I’m sure he will only be here for a day or two, and then everything will go back to normal.” Viktor grinned. “You’re still the number one Yuri in my heart, _Yura.”_

“You and that hag need to shut the fuck up,” Yuri yelled, grabbing a nearby pillow and attempting to chuck it at Viktor’s face. Though quiet during their conversation, the movement sparked something in Yuuri and had him crawling over towards Yuri. He raised his pig up and hit Yuri in the leg with it, scolding him in Japanese.

“Ugh, what is he doing?”

“He’s _playing_. Believe it or not, _Yura,_ he likes you.” Viktor laughed at his disgusted look. “Suck it up and go with it for a bit. He loved watching you skate.”

“You’re impossible.” He looked at Yuuri, who was wiggling in place. “ _Both_ of you are.” He grabbed another pillow and lightly whapped little Yuuri in the side with it anyways.

Dinner was, as Viktor expected, interesting with the two of them. They couldn’t sit at the table because Yuuri was too small for the chair, so just as the night before they all ate in the living room. This left Yuri at one end, Viktor at the other, and Yuuri in the middle. They fit rather snuggly, but while Yuri complained about it, he didn’t move either.

Yuuri, of course, was loving it. Viktor had figured out that while the kid was shy, once he was comfortable with a person he was quite friendly. For some reason, he _really_ liked Yuri. He found that kind of hilarious. Yuri was perhaps the prickliest person he had ever meant, yet this little ball of sunshine thought he was a blast.

Maybe it was a ‘hard to get’ kind of thing? When Yuri tried to push him away, Yuuri crawled even closer. When Yuri got in his face, little Yuuri just giggled. By the end of the night, he even set his stuffed pig beside Yuri to hold while he leaned against Viktor and tried to feed it a piece of his cookie. In their first meeting, Viktor was even allowed to _touch_ it. He had to convince himself that he wasn’t jealous.

He was probably a bit too glad when Yuri decided to leave.

Waving him out, Viktor dumped all of their dishes into his sink and turned around just in time to see Yuuri yawn into his hands. It looked like bath and bed were the only things left in his future.

“Yuuri,” Viktor walked over, pulling out his phone. “ _Let’s go take a bath, and then we can try out your new pajamas! How does that sound?”_ Yuuri made a face at the translation, looking at Viktor like he was crazy.

“いいえ!”

“Aww, don’t be like that!” Viktor grabbed the plastic bag Yuuri had dropped on the floor earlier and pulled them out. Light blue, both the long-sleeved shirt and pajama pants were decorated with various cartoon poodles. “These are like the cutest thing I’ve ever seen! I wish I had such cool pajamas when I was a kid!” He frowned. Kids just couldn’t get excited about the simple things anymore.

Viktor pulled Yuuri into his arms anyways, Makkachin at his heels, only plopping him down when they reached the bathroom. He couldn’t even imagine how difficult this would be if he didn’t have a tub. Could three-year-olds even take showers? Viktor was glad he didn’t actually have to find out.

Turning a few knobs and shifting where the water would flow from, Viktor turned the knob so the tub would begin to fill. He felt the water to make sure it wouldn’t burn Yuuri, at the same time reaching around and grabbing the back of his sweater before he could sneak out. Clever boy, but not fast enough. Yuuri stuck his tongue out.

“Hey now.” Viktor made sure the drain was plugged. “Baths can be fun! See?”  He pulled Yuuri around so he was standing in front of him, stretching out his arm so he could touch the water. Joining him, they both splashed in the growing puddle until Yuuri was satisfied. Makkachin wanted to join too, but Viktor nipped that in the butt right away.

“You can take a bath another time, baby.”

Thanks to spending the entire day with him, most of the awkwardness of helping Yuuri undress was gone. Yuuri didn’t seem to care as much either. Together they tugged off his clothes and Viktor hoisted him up by the armpits into the water.

“ _Good_?” he typed, wanting to make sure that he was comfortable. His response was a nod and a yawn as he played with the water, so Viktor figured things were fine. This wasn’t his first time giving someone a bath, thought this was the first _child_ he ever shampooed. Usually those baths weren’t so much about cleaning as they were for… other things. Still, the same principles applied. Mostly.

Viktor was careful as he wet Yuuri’s hair, drizzling it from the removable showerhead and keeping it from dripping into his eyes. He then pooled some shampoo into his palm and lathered it carefully through his black locks, laughing softly as Yuuri reached up to help.

“We make a good team, don’t we Yuuri?” Viktor carefully washed the suds away, again making sure to keep it from his eyes. He followed the same procedure with the conditioner, though there was a brief intermission as Yuuri thought it would be funny to scoop a bunch of water into his hands and throw it towards Makkachin of all people. It resulted in a lot of barking, some whines from both her and Yuuri, and a final light nudge to his poodles butt before Viktor could finally settle down and finish the job.

“I take it back, you are a troublemaker mister!” Viktor wagged a finger at Yuuri. “You have a thing for throwing water at people!” He sprayed to wash the conditioner out before reaching for the bar of soap. Viktor tried his best to remain firm even as Yuuri giggled into his fingers, starting to wash his arm. The other arm followed, then his chest and tummy. Viktor than leaned forward and reached around to wash his back.

The bar of soap slipped from his hands at he caught sight of a large, yellow-green bruise.

“Yuuri?” In a matter of seconds he was scooping Yuuri up and turning around so he could see it in full. Stretched from his lower left shoulder blade to the middle of his spine, Yuuri’s skin was colored in a disarray of yellows and greens.

Viktor thought he might throw up.

What… what the hell? When did Yuuri get _this?_ More importantly, _how?_ Viktor’s throat was clenched tight, his heart beating rapidly in his chest. He was familiar with bruises enough to tell this wasn’t that recent. If it was, it would be closer to blue and purple. This ugly bruise was fading. He could see it in the way the edges were starting to turn brown. Soon it would be gone, though probably not without a scar.

As careful as he could, Viktor touched the colored area.

“Yuuri, does this hurt?” Though perhaps surprised by Viktor’s touch, Yuuri showed no sign of discomfort. He just splashed quietly in the water, making it jump as he pushed it down with his palm. If Viktor pressed hard enough, he was sure that it would. He would never in a million years test that theory.

“Vik-ter?” Yuuri titled his head to the side. Viktor swallowed hard, forcing out a smile.

“Stay still,” he said quietly, reaching to pull the soap out of the water.                            

Viktor finished washing Yuuri in silence, draining the tub and wrapping him tightly in a towel before pulling him out. He suddenly felt self-conscious of how little Yuuri was, patting at his skin like he might break. The bruise on his back was a permanent fixture in his mind.   

How could he not notice something like that? It occurred to Viktor that this was the first time he had actually seen his bare back, but he felt like that was a poor excuse for something like this. He should have just _known,_ no matter how ridiculous that sounded. But Yuuri never said anything, never showed any sign that it was there.

Honestly, the sight of it scared him.

What kind of home life did Yuuri come from? They let him wander off, they hadn’t reported him missing, and now he had such a terrible bruise. That kind of mark, it didn’t just _happen._ It made him feel sick. He was beginning to fear that Yuuri’s love for his mother was nothing but a child’s fantasy.

Viktor quickly snapped several pictures of the bruise as he fought disgust. It was like his heart had sunk into his stomach, the acid nipping and sending needles throughout his body. Yuuri was such a good kid, a sweet little boy. If somebody out there was _hurting_ him…

Viktor couldn’t think about it. He wouldn’t. Perhaps it was delusional, but Viktor clung to Yuuri’s light and smothered himself in the belief that he was mistaken. This was all a misunderstanding, it had to be. He wouldn’t let it be anything else.

“Up you go.” Viktor finished helping Yuuri into his pajamas and set him on the bed. He pulled back the covers and tucked them tightly around him, leaving for minute to retrieve his pig from the living room. Yuuri reached for it immediately, snuggling into it with sleepy eyes.

 “私はママがここにいたらいいのに…” Viktor reached out and gave him a soft pat on the head, ruffling the wet locks.

“ _Sleep tight, Yuuri. I’m sure you’ll get to go home soon. Until then, I’ll watch over you.”_ Viktor couldn’t speak for parents, but he could for himself. At the very least, he’d protect Yuuri until he felt like he no longer needed to.

“おやすみ,” Yuuri mumbled, his eyes closing. He fell asleep not much longer after that. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> なぜあなたは裸ですか？- why are you naked?   
> やったよ- I did it!  
> 子犬- puppy  
> 私はあなたと一緒に行きたいです- I wanna go with you  
> 私は良いだろう, Vik-ter. 私はママになると約束した.- I will be good, Viktor. I promised mama I would be!   
> いいえ- no  
> 私はママがここにいたらいいのに- I wish Mama was here   
> おやすみ- goodnight 
> 
> \-----  
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Please, let me know your thoughts! I know were not in very far yet, but do you like where it's going? Is there anything you'd like to see? I'm all ears! 
> 
> next time: Chris makes an appearance, Yuuri learns some Russian, and Viktor is just trying to keep up.

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like if I don't explicitly say it, It's going to bite me in the butt, so here it goes: Viktor and Yuuri's relationship will NEVER go beyond platonic in this fic. If you're looking for some strange parent-child romantic relationship, you are NOT in the right place. The age difference is 20 years??? This story is about love, but not that kind of love. Understand? Phew. Okay. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the first chapter so far! As you can see, this story is just getting started. The plan is to update weekly, but we will see how that goes. As for the changes I've made to ages, if I don't explicitly say how old they are, their age is the same as it is in canon. So far, only Viktor (23) and Yuuri (3) have been changed. 
> 
> Next time: some actual interaction between Viktor and Yuuri and a conversation that's bound to take years off of Yakov's life. Poor man.


End file.
